From Green to Gold
by LikeNobodysWatching
Summary: Introverted and socially awkward, Emily Fitch is living an unacceptable life for her age, according to her family. But when she's forced to work in her mum's office, she begins to develop a peculiar relationship with Naomi Campbell.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone. Site's been a little quiet as of late, so i thought why not submit my own addition to this amazing fandom?**

**Chapter One**

Emily jars and quickly minimizes the webpage at the sound of heels glockenspielling towards her room. She drops her elbows from their half-arsed lean on her desk and clasps her hands in her lap, waiting for the familiar croak that the hinge of her bedroom door makes. When it doesn't sound soon enough, she rolls her eyes and nears her hand back towards the mouse, its cursor slow, no cautious, with its glide towards the minimized webpage living in the screen's taskbar.

Jenna bursts in, drops a basket brimming with clothes to the carpet, and Emily tears her fingers from her mouse in such haste that they meet her lap with a small **_thwap_**. She throws a sideward eye towards her mother, shakes her head, and sighs in that overly obvious way that people do when biting their tongue so hard that it erupts with sweet, metallic, crimson cells.

Jenna raises her eyebrows. "What was that?"

"Nothing mum."

The unspoken _that's what I thought _lingers heavy as Jenna lets her hand down from her hip and returns her brows to normal elasticity, bending to viciously snatch various items of dirty clothing from the floor. "_Nothing_ is exactly what you've been contributing to this household. You don't do _anything_," She says, a collective of black hair strands falling out from behind her ear, as she flings a pair of faded _SpongeBob SquarePants _socks to the basket. "Whilst _I_ run around like a mad woman trying to keep this family housed, fed and clothed." Her hand slings itself at the overflowing bin. "I mean just look at the state you keep this room in."

The younger girl sighs, cups her pale forehead in her palm and closes her eyes. "Mum –"

Jenna throws her hand up with force likely to tear air's very fabric. "No! Your dad and I have spoken about it and you're going to come and work at the office with me, starting Monday. You're nineteen now; it's time you started to learn the ways of the world instead of hiding in here all the bloody while."

Like a twister spinning off to terrorize another town, Jenna hikes the basket full of clothes under her arm and slams the door on her way out, the papers on a nearby cabinet twitching before silently floating to the floor.

Emily waits a while, then comes out from behind her hand. Glances at her bedroom door, gives it five more seconds – just to be safe – before she slips her palm over her mouse and clicks the page she'd been ogling before her mother's heels came into earshot.

Dicked. Org

The page expands to fill the entirety of the screen and once again she's face to face with hard abs, buttocks, bulging pecs and well, other hard man parts.

She feels nothing.

Absolutely nothing, and that's when she squeezes her eyes shut, re-opens them to phantom stars, and once more focuses on the lewd images in front of her, as though her honey brown eyes are the problem. They're not, she soon deduces, pressing the pad of her thumb to the monitor's stand-by button in conclusion. "Fuck." She sighs. "You're as gay as a window."

It would explain so much, the nothingness she always feels around supposedly 'hot' guys, whilst every other female in the room falls to their knees with a floorward jaw, the sudden excitement that often plagues her core when a pretty woman graces the TV screen. How she's not caught onto her blatant homosexual tendencies before is almost algebra to her, except it's not because it's not like she's experienced that crucial teenage stop-out phase. The phase that sharpens street smarts, teaches you how your peers work, and lets one in on how much alcohol one can guzzle before stomach acid and half digested food soars up one's throat. The phase where one really starts to learn who they are through friends, crushes, lovers and whoever else. Emily's always kept to herself, excruciating shyness robbing from her the choice of nodding, "Yes. I will meet you at the park after school."

College was the same, before she packed it in, and now it's like she's behind on learning who she is and what her preferences are.

A short succession of seconds later, Katie barges in, leans in the doorway sending something noisy back and forth over her nails.

"Mum's downstairs fuming.''

"Yeah well, she's always moaning about something, isn't she?"

"She's right though, Em. You, like, need to start doing something with your life. No use hiding away in here all the time."

It sounds like concerned sisterly advice to Emily's ears, but it feels a whole lot different, like an attack. Like confirmation that her whole family sit and drag her name through shit whenever she disappears behind the door of her room. She sighs deeply. "Katie please, don't come in here and pretend to care. I'm seriously not in the mood. Mom's set me up with some crappy job at her office, so now I'm going to have to –"

"What, mix with other humans?"

Emily's eyes lose their hazel glint for the water that suddenly surfaces them. She looks to her _Powerpuff Girls_ duvet, thumbs the fabric absently.

"Stop being such a baby, grow some balls, and go out there and face life. Like, you should be grateful mum got you the job. It'll get you out the house, put a bit of experience in your back pocket, and you'll be getting paid for it – not that you'll need the money for anything other than Chinese takeaway, since you never leave the house."

The entire computer desk trembles as Emily jabs the power button built into the hard drive. "Finished?" She croaks through a throat swimming with unshed tears, shakes her head. "Look," She mumbles, fiddles with her fraying nail. "Just, leave me alone."

* * *

><p>She reaches across her dresser, lifts a deep viridian bow to the side of her head. One glance in the mirror and she shakes her head at what she's certain is a vision of ineptitude, sighs, sending the little accessory skidding along the wood of her dresser with an exasperated flick.<p>

She stares down her reflection. "Stop being such a baby. They're just..." She peers down, before braving herself again. "They're just people. What's the worst that could happen?"

Her thoughts wander back to primary school. Miss Callenberg's class. They'd circled her, menacing, like a gang...

"Why did I have to have you as a partner?" Ellie Mchumphery huffed, snatching the half-coloured cardboard door from Emily's grasp. "You're totally useless Fitch."

"You aint wrong there Elle. So, _Fitch_, why you always by yourself? Is it 'cause you're useless, or 'cause ya think you're too good to mix with us?"

"She don't think anythin' of the sort, do ya Emilykins?"

Emily quickly shook her head, kept her eyes down. Knew better than to make eye contact with Oliver Leonards and his various disciples.

"We're friends aren't we Emily?" He beamed, squeezing an arm much too tight around her shoulders. She flinched, before quickly nodding, then subtly tried to shrug him off.

"So if we're friends," The boy smirked, re-affirming his arm around her for an even tighter grip. "You'll give meee..." He paused his drawl to peer up at the ceiling, and he took his finger back and forth his pre-adolescent chin. "You'll give me your scented pens. All of them."

Emily swallowed hard, grabbed her new packet of scented pens from the table and squeezed until her knuckles turned ghostly. "...No." She squeaked.

There was a collective gasp from all those watching, some sat with hands over agape mouths. Oliver; he wound his scruffy _Reebok _trainer back and blasted the leg of Emily's chair with it. The packet of pens flew up in the air as she toppled to the floor, and Oliver caught them on their descend, smug.

"Right." Said Miss Callenberg, returning to the room with more bags of glitter. "Who wanted the green -" She skidded to a stop, eying the small heap on the floor. "Emily, what are you doing on the floor sweetheart?"

"I erm, fell."

Miss Callenberg let a warm smile turn her lips up. "You need to be more careful, flower. You're constantly falling over, aren't you?" She crouched before Emily, dangling two bags of glitter. "Now, which colour would you like for your castle?"

Emily tried out a smile of her own, albeit very tiny, and brushed the tip of her finger with the smaller bag. "Erm, can I have the gold one?"

"Sure." Miss Callenberg dropped the bag to the girl's palm, though she quickly lost her smile and raced to the other side of the room when Danielle and Vicky began to shove one another.

When Emily stood and looked to her right, Oliver had his palm out. He snapped his fingers, to her flinch. "Give me the bag, weirdo, or I'll get my older sister to batter you _and _your loud mouthed twin."

"Get lost Oliver. Miss gave it to us." Ellie cut in, thrusting her open palm out towards Emily. "Give it to me."

Oliver snapped his fingers once more, this time with a cold: "The bag."

...

As his fist closed around the bag of gold, he roared laughter with his friends, eliciting a petulant hair-flick from over in Ellie's corner.

Emily set her chair straight and slipped back behind her desk, head down, eyes scrunched...

Those same set of hazel hues spring ajar and feign liveliness when Jenna pops her head round the door. "Will you get out of that bloody mirror, you will _not _be late! I've got loads on today, and I want to get you settled in the office before pitching the Sandergraph meeting."

Emily swallows hard. "Yeah, mum, I'll be down in two minutes."

She returns to her reflection as soon as she's alone again, tells the trembling redhead staring back at her a few parting words. "Not monsters. They're just people."

.

.

The moment her green flats meet safe grey carpet, she tenses, inside and out. Several people sat behind desks with computers look up, their tasks slurring slightly as their eyes rake over her like a fine comb through knotted hair.

"Mum?"

Her slender, doll-like, porcelain fingers tend to a facial itch that isn't there, her other hand repeatedly heavy on her mother's shoulder. "_Mum_?"

Jenna frowns, reluctantly presses her mobile phone to her blouse, and looks at her daughter. "What?" She mouths impatiently.

Emily folds an arm tight around herself, whilst rubbing the side of her neck, leans into her mother, whispering."W-where will I be working?"

Jenna clicks her tongue in her mouth, and quickly points over to a small cubicle of a room, it's only feature: a dinky little window to the rest of the office "You'll be in there photocopying for the time being, unless anybody wants a tea or coffee." The phone then quickly returns to her ear. "Ah, sorry about that Mr. Hemming..."

Emily stands there, wonders what sort of a deal her mother had to cut in order to get her this superfluous job as general dogsbody stroke office run-around.

A moment later, her mother sighs and relaxes her shoulders as she slides her phone back into the breast pocket of her tight-fitted black blazer. She tilts her head to the side slightly, and straightens her daughter's collar, a warmth lengthening in her smile. "This'll be good for you Em. You'll see. Now let me just get settled, and then I'll be over to show you how everything works, ok?"

.

.

Numerous members of staff turn up at Emily's door with requests to have important documents photocopied, though when Mike hands her two different documents and tells her to make a copy of whichever one she fancies, her suspicions are confirmed. She _is _the zoo's showpiece, at least for today.

"I'll erm, I'll just – I'll do both?"

Mike says nothing, folds his large arms across his broad chest and leans in the doorway, watching every move she makes...

"Here." She's glad she can finally say that, hands him his copies and puts up a smile that barely reaches the corners of her mouth.

He gently beats his pen at the point of his stubbled chin.

"Hmm..." He eventually hums, brash green eyes inspecting the copies for something they both know isn't there. He then smirks, gently pushes out of the doorway and winks. "Thank you."

With the sight of his back, Emily lets the air out of her lungs.

.

.

"I had to stuff envelopes and answer the telephones on my first day, none of this photocopying malarkey – but then the blinking boss heard me using cool words like whizzer, and banned me from ever talking to clients again, didn't he?"

Emily flinches into looking up, ends up knocking the arm off of her Blu-Tack snowman. She lets it roll to the edge of the desk and tumble to the floor. Merely blinks at the new presence stood in the doorway.

"Hi, I'm Panda," The girl speedballs her hand out. "Well not actually Panda." She rolls her eyes, giggles. "Pandora Moon, but I answer to Panda. I answer to Pandora too, but mostly Panda." She nods, mousey blonde hair on the verge of wild as a symptom of the energy she seems to put into everything.

Emily suddenly remembers that this is real life, not a cartoon, and takes Pandora's hand in her own, briefly shaking it with a tepid smile. "Right, well, erm, I'm Emily."

The sprightly girl leaves the doorway and plonks herself in the chair next to Emily. "I know. You're Jenna's daughter aren't you? Must be totally boss getting to work with your mum, unless she's like my mum and won't let you talk to boys or nothin'."

"...Errm..."

"Cockers," Pandora interrupts with a frown, puffs a large breath out of balloon cheeks, and fans a hand in front of her flustered face. "It's bloomin' hot it here isn't it? Should go 'n tell the higher-ups to put on the air con – or you could just go 'n ask your mum."

"Pandora! What the _fuck_ are you doing in here? I sent you for those colour slides like," Looks at the fancy silver adorning her wrist. "Yesterday!"

Pandora casually gestures towards the tall peroxide blonde woman now stood at the door. "Or you could just ask Naomi to put it on for you."

"What?" Naomi erupts, eyes squinting something evil. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"The air con. It's bloomin' hot in here, right Ems?"

"Erm..."

Pandora delivers a gentle but rousing elbow to the girl sat beside her. "Emily?"

"Erm, r-r-right, P-Panda. It's..." She rubs the side of her fast blotching neck, lowers her eyes, and gulps with a desert-like throat, mumbling. "Hot in," Briefly glances up, left to right, and back down again. "...Here."

Naomi looks the small ruby-haired girl over for a second, as if to question why on earth God bothered, before narrowing blue ice back at her assistant. "If those slides are not up in the next five seconds, it's your tits!"

"Alright, alright." Pandora clicks her tongue, stands lethargically, mutters. "Bye Emily," on her comical plod out.

Naomi remains in the doorway, eyes the oddly shaped clump of Blu-Tack stuck to Emily's desk, and shakes her head through a drawn sigh.

"Well?" Her eyebrows shoot for the sky. "Do you want the air con on or not?"

"Erm," Emily barely nods, mumbles into her own lap, "Yes...thanks."

Just like that the doorway is empty again, and Emily pants for all those breaths she's just forgotten to take.

* * *

><p>"Get Emily downstairs please, Katie."<p>

"Get James to knock her; I'm already late meeting Danny."

"Katie!"

The older twin sighs dramatically, slips her hand from the front door's handle, and stomps off up the stairs.

Jenna slots a dripping plate into the dish drainer as she feels the front door's slam through her bones, and senses the wariness of the presence behind her. She glances over her shoulder and smiles at her daughter. "You didn't say much in the car."

"…I didn't?"

"I've heard wombs that are more talkative."

"Ok..."

"Enjoy dinner?"

"Was scrumptious..."

Jenna drops a half washed mug back into the solution of soapy dish water, sucks in a breath and turns to face her daughter. "So, how did you get on at the office today then? Was everything ok?"

Anxieties and things of watching paint dry fill Emily's mind, but she masks them with a small smile, shrugs a shoulder laxly, "Yeah, it was ok I 'spose."

"Oh." Jenna's cheekbones rise high to her eyes with her smile, and suds fly everywhere with her jovial clap. "Oh, well that's brilliant darling. What about the staff, mingle with anyone?"

Emily allows her lips a smirk as she recalls the words 'whizzer,' 'bloomin,' and 'cockers.'

"Pandora."

Her mother grabs the dish cloth from its wrap around the oven door's chrome bars, and dries her hands whilst rolling her eyes. "I swear that girl is as dizzy as a spinning top. You could handle the position she's got _far _better than her. She's not careful, you'll have her job soon. _Mark my words_!" She nods, chest beginning to swell in pride.

"I met Naomi." Emily quickly changes the subject, instantly winces in regret.

Jenna's hands halt in the dish cloth. "Was that bitch rude to you, because if she was it'll be me and her tomorrow! What did she say? – I've been looking for an excuse to punch her in the mouth."

"Mum, she's not _that _bad..."

Jenna nearly chokes. A hand flies to her hip, and she flings the sodden dish cloth down to the work surface. "Fantastic! You've met the cow once, and you've taken her side over the woman who spent eighteen hours screaming and pushing so that you and Katie could have life."

"I, I wasn't taking her side, I was just saying. She put the air conditioning on for me...She didn't, well, she didn't have to..."

"The air conditioning?" Jenna repeats, jaw hanging. "I'm your _mother_, Emily! _All _of your loyalties should lie with me, and that's not even taking into account how difficult she's made my work life - but hey," She throws her pruned hands up, palms out. "It's nice to know where your allegiance lies." Mutters, "Great."

The tumble dryer hums as Emily runs a slow hand up and down the length of her own arm, her honey brown's closing around a curious squint. "...What did she do to you?"

"She's a complete bitch, that's what she's done. No wonder her husband got rid of her." Chuckles bitterly. "She was trying to bully me into resigning at one point, remember that? She's just a miserable bitch. I swear, if she so much as looks at you wrong, make _no _mistake, I will crucify her. So unless you want world war three, I suggest you stay away from her."

**What do you guys think?** **And thanks for reading :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I was surprised to learn that some of you thought the previous chapter was funny. It wasn't supposed to be lol. Thanks to those of you who read this, thanks to those who reviewed, thanks to those who subscribed, and thanks to those who enjoyed it.**

**Chapter Two**

"You faxed the wrong copy, again!"

"I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean –"

"You've been here two weeks; you should be at home with how the fax machine works by now Emily."

"I..."

Charlie heaves a stack of papers from beneath his desk and sinks Emily's arms with them. "Take those to the second floor, give them to Rachel. Think you can manage that?"

She manages a nod, only just, from behind the papers, and takes out of the room, hears the grumpy executive grumble, "Fuck are they finding these kids?" on her way into the lift.

.

.

"Thanks Emily." Rachel smiles, "Charlie really knows how to pamper a lady huh?" She chuckles, eying the sizable stack of paper now sat on her desk. "They don't pay me enough."

Emily looks to the floor. "I'm sorry."

Rachel immediately waves the younger girl's apology away. "Oh don't be honey. I was only kidding. I mean, you're just doing your job. It's not your fault Charlie's a slave driver, is it?"

Emily thinks about it and then shakes her head.

"Right then, and Emily?"

"Yes?"

"Stop apologizing so much."

"Ok." Smiles weak.

She pulls Rachel's door in and gazes down the long corridor, towards the office she's been watching over the last fortnight. Heart kicking beneath her fitted shirt, tentative steps gradually take her towards her room of interest, until she's sneaking cautious peeps around the door.

She doesn't expect Naomi to sense her presence and glance up from what she's writing. "Erm, is there something I can help you with?"

"...I, erm – I..."

The blonde behind the desk raises her eyebrows, waits...eventually drops her pen. "Emily, what are you doing here?"

"You know m-my name?" Emily frowns, thrown.

Naomi sighs, pulls a sheet of paper out from beneath the one her pen's resting on and folds it. "Emily, you've been here close to two weeks. Now what was it that you wanted?"

"Erm, I, I must've come to the wrong room. S-sorry."

Naomi dips her head in a slow nod, runs her thumb and index along the paper's foldline.

"...Right."

Emily nods once. "Right? – I mean, yeah, right...I'll just, I'll go now."

"Emily?"

The younger girl turns back around so fast, she almost does an ankle in. "Hmm?"

"My coffee." Naomi says, curls her long fingers around her mug's handle and lifts the object up from her desk. "Top me up. I like it black, two and a half sugars."

.

.

Inspecting the rim of someone else's recently used mug under such scrutiny makes Emily feel like she won't be able to face herself in the mirror when she gets home. But she finds her eyes disobeying her, running over every dent, crack and stain.

She quickly glances around the shoebox of a kitchen, erects her finger and presses its pad to the brown lip-shaped smudge drying on the rim. Before she knows herself, her finger is hovering at her lips, and before she knows her lips, they're closing, warm, around its tip.

"Aww, is that cuppa for me?"

Emily jumps, just manages to catch Naomi's mug inches from the floor. She rests the flat of her hand on the work surface, and her eyes fall softly, her heart slam-fucking her ribcage.

A dangerously tactful hand suddenly presses into the small of her back, steadying her. "Careful there, you don't want to drop the soap around here."

Her eyelids leap up, and her entire face sews with a grimace-like smile as she eases out of Mike's grasp, stepping away from him. "Might as well b-be a ghost sometimes, a-always dropping stuff."

He stands back, loosens the neck of his tie and slides his eyes down her form slowly, leaning to the side slightly to cop a fuller look. "I'm sure I could find something for you to hold, something much too big to slip through your fingers."

"What's going on?"

Mike looks towards the doorway, immediately cleans up his posture, "Naomi…" He shakes his head and readjusts his tie. "Why would erm," Coughs and shakes his head again, smiles in a pantomime of confusion. "Why would anything be going on?"

There's silence as Naomi takes Emily's demeanor in with a lengthy stare, before heading over towards the chrome kettle. Steam, thick and hot begins to puff from it the moment she flips its lever, and she slips her mug loose from Emily's fingers, sitting it next to the boiling kettle. Eventually she turns back around to face her long-time colleague, folds her arms across her chest and crosses her feet at the ankles. "Mike, are we forgetting that I gym with your wife every Friday?"

"...What's Susie got to do with anything?"

Naomi swats some fluff off of the thigh of her grey slacks, chuckles quietly to herself. "I'm just saying; if I run out of things to say whilst running next to her on the treadmill, I may just be inclined to fill her in on your sleazy conduct around new female staff. It might just, you know," Shrugs. "Slip out."

All colour leaves the man's face.

Naomi raises her brows at him and he hot-foots it out of the room.

"Sleazy prick." She says to no one in particular, spinning around to spoon grains of coffee from the tin to her mug.

"...Thank you."

Naomi acknowledges the small, husked, voice of gratitude with a nod, spoons two and a half sugars into her mug, and fills it to the brim with the kettle's steaming hot water. "I get funny about my coffee, so next time I ask you to make me a cup of Joe, I'll need it right away."

"Right away." Emily assents, momentarily tranced by the shape to Naomi's bicep through her white rolled-up sleeved shirt, as she reaches over to place the kettle back on its stand. "Beautiful." She whispers, instantly slamming her hand to her mouth so hard that she almost tastes blood. She drops it soon after, fumbles. "I-I mean, the way you handled M-Mike. It was," She blinks a flutter, bows her head. "It was beautiful."

Naomi finally takes a sip from the mug hovering inches from her lips, and nods again. "I need to get back to work."

Her candy-sweet scent lingers in the small kitchen long after she's gone, and Emily slumps against the work surface, face in hands. "_God_, you're _such _a fuck up."

After she wills away her flustered appearance in the kettle's chrome, she pats down her shirt and shuffles back into the main office.

"So Em, are there any reem guys working here or what?"

Emily spins around, relaxes the moment her eyes find familiarity. "No footballers, so I suppose not, no."

"Hey bitch, men offer to buy me things, alright?"

"Why're you here?"

Katie peers around the office, casually scratches her nose. "Oh, need to lend some money from mum."

Emily points at the ceiling. "She's a floor up, but she's busy. Meeting finishes at four."

Katie hikes the loose straps of her bag further up her shoulder, and smirks at her sister, reaches out to smooth flat Emily's collar.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just refreshing to see you're already becoming, like, a part of this place. Mum's a lot happier now that you're getting out of the house. Me and dad too."

Emily looks to the safe grey carpet, toe of her flat kicking gently at it.

"Take me to your station then – or whatever you call it. There's no way I'm leaving this place without that money, since you can bet your tits those shoes won't be on sale tomorrow."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Come on."

She pushes the door in with a soft click, watches Katie sit down in the swivel chair and tap random keys on the computer's keyboard, peering around like she's viewing a house.

"I would've demanded a bigger room, but at least you got a room. And you've got a window to the rest of the office. "

"Yeah."

"So, what's the T around here then, Em?"

"The T?"

"Yeah, my gay husband, Aaron, always says it when he wants all the goss. He's stupidly beautiful by the way, such a waste." Katie stares off forlornly.

"Oh. Well," The younger twin shrugs, "...There is no _T_. Not much happens here…"

_Except a down-pouring from my armpits, and the stammers, every time anybody so much as glances at me._

"Oh, I forgot to ask you; mum said you ran into that Campbell sket? But she didn't get to tell me the full story, 'cause she was on her way out."

Emily perches half of her bum on the side of the desk, imagines actually running into the woman currently walking around the floor above. Her mind mists with that sensual candy-sweet aroma, and impatient blue eyes. She soon shakes her head, sucks in a breath which lifts and drops her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Katie throws her bag to the floor, begins to stand up. "If she's said anything to you, she's fucking done!"

Emily's forehead rumples. "Oh sit down Katie. She's," Her throat clears, once, "...Nice."

Katie wildly nods her head back, frowns. "Nice?"

Emily squashes what's left of her Blu-Tack snowman to the desk, fidgets a little, mumbling, "Mum's not the easiest person to get on with you know; why do you think dad asks for extra shifts? Why do you think I spend so much time in my room?"

"Because _you don't go anywhere_! Don't try and, like, blame mum for your reclusiveness Em. She's got nothing to do with you having beaten-dog syndrome when it comes to interacting with other people. Funny how you can run your mouth when it comes to mum, yet when Alice stole your coursework, you couldn't bring yourself to pull her up about it – even though you fucking _knew _she'd taken it!"

"K-Katie -"

"She's our _mum_, and you're in here sucking the arse of someone who's been a cunt to her? Are you serious?"

Emily winces in the face of her sister's increasing volume, her fingers rising in consideration of plugging her ears, before they inevitably fall again. "Shh! Katie, fucking hell, just chill out!" Whispers, "People are going to hear."

"Face bothered, Emily – whatever, if I ever drop by here in the future and see you being bum-chums with that bitch, it'll be over for the both of you." With that, the older twin loops her fingers through the straps of her bag and yanks it up from the floor, pulling out a small cylinder of Cherry Kiss lip-gloss. She twists the lid off, runs it along her top lip, followed by the bottom, her rosy pout glistening in the way that boys like by the time she eventually drops it back into her bag. "Fitch women stick together." She proclaims with a small but hostile smack of the lips.

A wince, of smaller magnitude than last, twists up Emily's forehead as she hears hints of familiar Scottish twang to her twin's statement.

She sighs. "Katie, it's not like I'm going out for after-work drinks with the woman. She barely even…" Toys with the loose button on her shirt, remembers thirty minutes ago in the kitchen. "She barely even looks at me." She inhales and blows a slow breath out. "She just gets on with her job and then goes home at the end of the day."

"Good. As long as she sticks to just doing her job, I won't have to do one on her face, will I?" Katie smiles, hunches her shoulders in that sickly sweet way. She leans back in the chair, glances around for a clock. "Is that meeting ever gonna end or what?"

* * *

><p>Her thoughts veer further and further away from the world she's creating in Microsoft Word; her fingertips slowing on her keyboard. She sneaks a sideward eye at her blackberry, eventually reaches over her glass of wine for it.<p>

"Look love, he said he'd call. Now just try to relax a little bit, eh darling?"

Naomi scrolls down her list of contacts. "He said he'd call a fucking hour ago; he's just being a shit because I dropped her off fifteen minutes late last time I had her." She ruffles her hair putting the phone to her ear. "…About time. Where are you?"

"You phoning me up is only slowing me down, you know that, Naomi?"

"Erm yeah, once _again_, _where_ are you?"

Gina stares at her daughter from the kitchen stool she's perched on, mouths, "Stop it. Be civil."

Eyebrows crumpled in irritation, Naomi spins in her swivel chair, backs her mother. "No, I don't want Nicole driving her here. I don't need her reading my own daughter's schedule out to me before she leaves her in my care."

"Well that's the only way she's gonna be able to get down there tonight."

Naomi puts her hand to her forehead, sighs lengthily, and suddenly her phone's leaving her ear.

"Hello, Anton dear, it's Gina here love. Yeah," She smiles. "Well it's not that, it's just that she's really been looking forward to seeing her, as have I. You said you'd call an hour ago and you didn't," She recounts non-judgmentally, "So you can appreciate my daughter's despair right now?"

"I'm not the one with the problem Gina. It's like I just told your daughter, I can't get up there tonight; I've got work. So Nicole's gonna have to drop her down."

"We don't care how she gets down here, just so long as she arrives safe and sound, right Naomi?" Gina settles it, slipping the phone back to her daughter's ear.

"Just make sure she gets here soon. It's almost ten." Naomi disconnects the call, and slams her blackberry to her table, to the slight rocking of her wine glass.

"Naomi..."

"Mum, I don't want to hear it." She snatches her box of fags from the shelf, empties them all out, and sparks at the one she's just popped between her lips. A slender tunnel of smoke floats from her mouth a second later, shrouding her slightly. "Worst thing I ever did was send her to go and live with him, and now if I try to get her back, it's going to be a fucking custody battle."

"Sweetheart," Gina fans through the wispy clouds of smoke, coughs. "Stop being so hard on yourself. You felt it was the right decision at the time, and to be perfectly honest love, it was."

Naomi's lips part and then she pauses, frowns, tapping her cigarette off into a nearby ashtray.

"It wouldn't have been good for her to see her mom like that. And no, you don't see her as often as you'd like, but when you do see her, you're always on top of your game."

Naomi scoffs, challenges, "Am I?" mid drag.

"Don't be a sausage sweetheart. She loves spending her weekends here."

"Only because I buy her the world as consolation for me being shit."

"Darling –"

"And I can't fucking stand the thought of that Croydon facelift hair-do having slut, Nicole, getting to see more of my daughter than I do. She's basically playing wife and mum to my family."

"It's your daughter and your ex-husband; I get it love, but you have to let him go, and focus on being the best mum you can be."

Naomi presses the amber tip of her cigarette to the ashtray, reaches for another one. "I know."

"And you can start," Gina says, softly taking her daughter's hand. She ponders the lines rivering the ivory skin she gave birth to all those years ago, until her sight finds the diamond encrusted gold band circling her daughter's finger. She slips it off. "You can start by getting rid of this."

"Mum –"

"You aren't married anymore, and you were never really any good for one another anyway." Gina reaches into her coat, drops the heavy ring straight to the bottom of her deepest pocket.

"...I know – and I thought I said I didn't want to hear it?"

* * *

><p>Pandora sinks into the sofa next to Emily, passes a plastic cup her way. "Some of the others aren't here yet, so I thought I'd make you your morning coffee instead."<p>

Emily jumps a little when she turns her head and there's a cup centimeters from her face. "Oh…Thanks." She accepts with a delighted smile, hands closing around the warm holder. She dips her head and sips with the caution that the steam rising from her beverage recommends. It turns her sip into a quiet slurp.

"It's like office boot-up innit, this?"

Emily takes a particularly harsh gulp, frowns lowering the cup from her mouth to the table. "What is?"

"Everyone coming in here for coffee in the mornings. It's like, if they don't get their coffee, they won't be able to do their jobs properly. It proper boots 'em up, don't it, like one of them whizzer fast computers?"

A small grin works into Emily's lips, her eyes dropping to the dark liquid swimming around the cup. "I like your mind Pandora. You're thoughtful, and funny, and creative."

"What, me?" Pandora twists round, and her knee hums against the underside of the small table. "Ow!"

Emily chuckles out: "Yeah, Pandora. You."

The sprightly girl's face flushes a furious red and she shrinks into herself a little bit. "…Thanks Emily. You're gorg-lookin' an everythin' but I don't surf 'n turf with other girls. I love boys, loads of boys, but I'm not judging you or anythin', because it's ok if you don –"

Emily's eyes grow to absolute saucers, "Shh!" She hisses, throwing frantic glances towards the other side of the room; towards Jenna. Her palm jumps to Pandora's mouth. "Shhh!"

"I can't breathe." Pandora muffles, reaching up to peel the pale, stubborn, hand from her lips, not that she succeeds. "Umph! I can't breathe!" She flails.

The hand finally drops from her mouth and wraps itself around her wrist, yanking her up from the small couch.

They end up in a vacant room, filled with thick packets of digital printing paper, as well as other stationeries.

"H-How do you know?" Emily's arm's tight around her stomach, the other folding at the elbow to facilitate her fingers hard tugging on her earlobe. "How do you know I'm…" She glances towards the floor, "Gay?"

Pandora drops her bum onto a nearby box and something pops, but her pants for breath override any concern to figure out what it is. "What the flamin' hell you on about? I thought everybody knew."

"No!" Emily almost shouts, body dancing with a subtle tremble. "N-Nobody knows, especially my mum. You can't say things like that out loud, ok Pandora?"

"Ok Emily. I won't say anythin'. Promise." With a bit of bum-shuffling, Pandora gets to her feet, secures her hand around the doorknob. She twists it and pulls it open, only to have the fretting redhead slowly close it in again.

"How did you know I was, you know..." Considers ways to say it that won't leave her feeling odd, before just saying it,"Gay?"

Pandora shrugs. "You're always sneakin' looks at Naomi's arse."

"…Oh."

"Don't worry or nothin'. I don't mind or anythin'. Just, I'm not a muff monkey, so your lesbian mind tricks and compliments, well, I'm immune to 'em. Sorry."

Emily looks up into the other girl's eyes, sees the absolute sincerity in them, and bits of her chagrin have no choice but to fall away to a brief, tiny, chuckle. "Pandora, I wasn't hitting on you in there."

"…Oh." The girl says, looking to the floor.

"But I, I meant what I said. I like your mind." Emily quickly adds.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I like your mind too, even if it's filled with tits and muff. Hug?"

Emily crumbles with that, folds in on herself and clutches her stomach. She thumbs the corners of her eyes, just as a lady who'd applied too much mascara would, her shoulders rippling with residual mirth. "See? You're very funny." She pants, slipping her arm around Pandora's neck, pulling her in close. "Thank you Pandora, for liking my mind, for liking...me."

She pulls back, everything suddenly seeming serious again.

Pandora shrugs. "It's no bother. You're into mature cheese though, aren't you? Naomi's like, thirty-five or some'ink, 'int she?"

"I think my mum said she was forty once." Emily frowns, burying the mature cheese comment somewhere she doesn't have to deal with it.

"No, I remember now. She's deffo thirty-five." Pandora grins, playfully nudges Emily. "It's quite sweet actually, you fancying the arse off of Naomi."

A fire ignites within Emily's cheeks. She grimaces as she lingers on her situation, puffs loose a gust of breath. "God knows she must think I'm a, a freak. Even if she didn't think that – which she definitely does – I wouldn't have the guts to do anything other than stalk her from her office doorway like a complete sap anyway. She's not even, she isn't even gay. I should just quit working here," She suddenly concludes. "Think I'm better off quitting?"

Pandora only smiles, phantom love hearts and candy canes orbiting her. She points her index finger at the girl unraveling before her and sings, "You got it _baaad _sista."

"That's really helpful."

"What would you do without me eh? Anyway, let's get back to the kitchen, before folk think I'm in here givin' you one."

The doors open and Pandora's bouncing out of it within seconds.

The packets of digital printing paper are the only ones to hear Emily ask, "I wonder If she actually knows that you need a certain amount of filth to your tone to carry off what she's just said?"

.

.

There's a tension in the room that wasn't there before, when the two girls make it back to the kitchen.

Rachel slowly reaches around Naomi, quickly pops her dirty mug in the sink, and then scurries towards the door. She squeezes Emily's arm and then Pandora's on her way out, throwing a stiff nod between the tall blonde and Jenna. "They've just had another barney. Steer clear girls."

"No wedding ring today then, Naomi?" Jenna suddenly decides to probe, through a witch's smirk, as she leans her lower back against the work surface.

Naomi continues to stir the spoon in her drink, sighs. "Well you've still got yours on, I see. Pretending everything's fine at home must get taxing."

One of the screws fall out of Jenna's smirk, and it falls on its side, crooked, "You know nothing about my marriage!"

"I know a lot more than you think, thanks to your little office gossip buddies." Naomi smiles, grabs her coffee from the side, and ghostingly brushes past Pandora on her way out of the room.

Emily watches her mother stand there like a spare part, slowly walks over to her, rests a light hand on her shoulder. "Mum...you ok?"

"One of these days that woman'll get what's coming to her." Her Scottish accent makes that sound like a threat. "And me and your father are fine," She says, absently twisting her wedding ring around her finger. "That bitch doesn't know what she's talking about. Everything's..." Her jaw tightens. "_Fine – _what you lot all looking at eh?"

Fifteen minutes later Emily finds herself pacing the third floor.

A sudden nearby shuffle halts her flats to the area just outside of Naomi's office, but by the time the shuffler reveals themself to be innocuous, cerulean blue are already peering at her.

"Excuse me, would it be possible for me to call you back? Yes, if you don't mind. Thank you, Miss Clarrington. Bye." Naomi's smile drops the moment she drops the phone's receiver to its handset. "Is there a reason for your constant lingering outside my office? Maybe I'm dumb. Maybe it's glaringly obvious and I'm just not getting it."

"...Erm..."

"Well?" Naomi thrusts her eyebrows up.

"...I'm not." The pale girl mutters at her shoes.

"You're what?"

"...I'm not...constantly l-lingering outside your office. This is only the second time you've c-caught me out here...technically."

Naomily stares at the red-haired girl for a moment. "Your work doesn't really require you to be on this floor, so unfortunately I'm still sat here with question marks floating around my head as to why I've ever caught you at all."

Emily braves to look up. She only manages five seconds of eye contact with the blonde woman before she continues her gaze with her shoes, mumbles. "I just, I just w-wanted to...to ask if you'd lay off of my mum."

Naomi scoffs and glances around the office for _something _to share the joke with. "Are you shitting me?"

Emily's vibrant ruby curtains shimmy a little as she shakes her head, throat clinging together through a lack of moisture. "I know she's not always the easiest person to, erm, get on with, but don't, don't talk about my parent's marriage..."

"I've got zero time for this nonsense, so if you could remove yourself from my doorway..."

Emily's legs ignore her commands to move.

Naomi stands, comes out from behind her desk. She takes the handle of the door in hand, and waves snarkily at the diminishing image of the small girl as she closes the door in.

* * *

><p><strong>For those who're unfamiliar:<strong>

**In English slang, a Croydon facelift (sometimes council house facelift, Essex facelift,[1] or in Northern Ireland a Millie Facelift) is a particular hairstyle worn by young women. The hair is pulled back tight and tied in a bun or ponytail at the back. The supposed result is that the skin of the forehead and face are pulled up and back, producing the effects of a facelift. Traction alopecia, a type of gradual hair loss, can result from using this hairstyle.**

**This hairstyle is frequently worn by certain young women in the United Kingdom, and is portrayed in the media as belonging to young women from the lower social classes, particularly the Chav subculture.**

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, I'm a geek ; )<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**To LoveNaomily, Emily is 19. It's stated in chapter one. Thanks for your review, and thanks you to everybody else who has shown an interest :)**

**Chapter Three**

The ink gets lighter and lighter with every word she scrawls to the page. She clicks her tongue and shakes the pen, willing it to perform for the final sentence. It doesn't, and she tosses it at her bin.

She rolls over on her bed, peering up at the ceiling, a mess of her ruby hair sprawled across the unfinished diary entry.

Soon, thoughts of why she's even keeping a diary in the first place bubble up, and she considers whether it was a wise decision to stop going to those anxiety management classes.

"You should've just carried on going." She husks to herself, puffing out a long breath.

She can say that all she wants to now, but it was the excruciating bus rides to and from the classes, the inescapable feat of having to stand up and introduce herself at the beginning of every lesson. She's allowed all of it to steal her progress, and now she often wonders whether she'll ever find a strong enough voice to be able to deal with others without coming across like a cowering mouse.

She rolls back onto her stomach, stretches her arm until her fingertips are brushing the pen on her desk, and with one final lunge, she grabs it, turning to a fresh page in her diary.

_Naomi._

It's written small, as though it's a secret.

Eventually she strikes a line through it, adding another, and another...

_Naomi_.

It's scrawled a little bigger this time.

* * *

><p>"Who's that coffee for?"<p>

Emily looks at the mug in her grasp, and then at her mother, heart suddenly thrashing in her chest. "Erm..."

Jenna throws a look towards the office at the end of the corridor, the one her daughter's feet are emphatically pointed in the direction of. Her stare darkens. "That better not be for her, Emily."

"It, it's not. It's – it's mine!"

"You've always been useless at lying; I cannot believe you're sneaking up here delivering Satan's baby hot beverages."

Emily sighs, lets all pretences slip. "Mum, it's part of my job to get people coffee."

"Did she ask you to make her one?"

A year seems to go by before Emily shakes her head, lowers her coffee hues to that which matches them.

When Andy brisks past, Jenna reconsiders her yell for a whisper instead. "Well then why the hell are you doing anything for that cow?"

"I just," Heart thudding in her ears. "I...I wanted to..."

"Jen, Optical Resolutions are here. We need you now."

Jenna reluctantly breaks her glare with her daughter, spits a chilling, "We'll talk about this later on tonight, young lady," before disappearing into the lift with Ivy.

Emily stands there, stares at the mug in her hands, "Fuck sake." She mutters, the simple act of throwing the drink away tempting her, before she rolls her eyes and begins a slow shuffle towards the room at the end of the corridor.

She peeps around the door, spends a moment watching the woman inside systematically sift through the documents on her desk. Eventually she glances at the mug in her hand, decides to clear her throat. "Erm..."

Naomi looks up through her eyelashes, hand slowing on its way to the phone. She quickly draws it back, as though she's going to need everything about her if she's going to endure this interaction, sighs. "What?"

"Erm..." The words dissolve in her throat, so she quickly holds the hot beverage up. "I, I b-bought you this?"

A slight frown wriggles into Naomi's forehead as she stares at the girl in the doorway, "Erm, thanks...I didn't ask for one, though..."

Emily briefly scratches her nose, blinks once, shuffles from one foot to the other. "Erm I know, but I, I wanted to..." She looks everywhere but at the woman she's just spent the last fifteen minutes preparing and perfecting coffee for, internally riding herself for how stupid she knows she sounds.

"And your mother didn't get you to spit in it, or add a healthy dose of rat poison?"

"If, if you don't want it, I'll just throw it d-down the sink...or in that ugly plant downstairs?"

Naomi's frown begins to ebb, her lips even managing a subtle upward curl, as she nods at her desk. "Bring it here then."

"Here." Emily mutters, gingerly handing the mug to the other woman.

Naomi runs her eyes over the steaming hot drink, glances back up at Emily, and then sips at it, her eyes instantly bulging. She lowers the mug a fingertip away from her mouth, stares at it. "Hmm." She releases, strawberry rose tongue shooting out and sliding across the length of her lips, eyebrows northward. "That's a mean cup of java."

Emily looks elsewhere, shrugs, relaxes into a vague smile. "It's Vienna roast. Cousin of mine went on holiday and b-b-brought us some back." She shrugs again.

Something flits into Naomi's eyes as she hears that, and she slides the mug away, nods. "Well thank you, but, I think I've had enough coffee for one day."

Emily deflates; her shoulders, the glow in her cheeks, the strength in her knees. "Ok, I'll just, I'll g-get rid of it t-then." Her fingers clumsily angle for the mug's handle.

A second later dark liquid is sweeping through every document on the desk, racing to the cliff of the table to drip into Naomi's lap.

"Jesus!" The tall woman hisses, jumping up from her chair. She stares at the sodden papers she's just spent the last hour sorting through and then glares hot hell at the frozen girl stood on the other side of the desk. "What the _fuck_?"

"I-I didn't mean to. It w-was an accide –"

"Look at the state of my fucking trousers!"

"I-I'm really, I'm really sorry."

"Just – fuck!" –Naomi pauses to shake her coffee sodden shoe out –"Just leave!"

Emily's feet blur carrying her out of the room.

* * *

><p>She lets out a low growl of complaint, picks up her plate. "I'm going upstairs."<p>

Jenna spins around so fast, she almost makes it round a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees. "Sit!" She hisses.

Emily looks towards her father.

"Do as your mum says will you love?"

The younger girl drops her plate back to the dinner table and slumps back down into the chair, subjects herself to her mother's barbs as she bustles noisily around the kitchen.

Eventually Jenna joins her daughter and husband, puts her plate down with a pointed thud and scoots her chair out, before sitting.

"So how was it at the office today then Em?" Rob asks, his square jaw churning around the food in his mouth.

Emily looks at her mother, rolls her eyes. She then turns to her father. "I, I made Naomi a cup of coffee, and now I'm being forced to sit and eat down here."

Rob throws his wife a look.

Jenna glares back. "Oh don't look at me like that Rob. I'm not in the mood."

"I thought I said that I didn't want you bringing that nonsense home eh? Let alone dragging poor Emily into it. You used to be friends with the woman for God's sake, and we all know how strict the criteria for you to befriend someone is, so she can't be that bad."

"It doesn't matter that I was fooled into thinking she was ok once, I expect my family to be behind me. You should've seen her." She gestures a disgusted fork at her daughter, "Sneaking around on the third floor so that she could take Naomi that cup of coffee, when just days before she'd seen that lanky bitch laying into me about the _supposed_ rocks our marriage is on."

"Mum, you…you started that argument. Naomi just, she just retaliated."

Jenna's eyes nearly pop in their sockets and her voice reaches unheard of octaves. "You weren't there when it started, you little traitor!"

"Just calm the flamin' hell down will ya?"

Emily shoves her plate away, pushes up from her chair and stomps the steps of the stairs until she reaches her room.

* * *

><p>She twists the key in the ignition, slips on her sunglasses, and glances into the rear-view mirror, pressing her foot on the break as a small knocking rattles out on her window. She sighs, leans forward to press a button, and her window slides down.<p>

"Emily." She says in sardonic cheer.

"Hi...Erm..."

"Can you make this quick? I need to get going."

"S-Sorry about that the other d-day. It was an," Her ruby tresses fall around her face as she hangs her head, "Accident." She glances up into round intimidating sunglasses, tucks a few strands behind her pale ear, and just stands there in the car park beside the shiny car. "I, I can give you the money for new shoes, or, or trousers..."

Naomi rolls her eyes behind her shades, clicks her tongue. "It's fine."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Like..._seriously_?"

"Yeah, like _seriously_." Naomi nods, peering out of her windscreen with a small bunching to her cheeks.

"What?"

"Nothing." Naomi says, reaffirming her two hands around the steering wheel. "Am I now free to burn rubber home?"

"A-Actually, I wanted to, I wanted to talk to you about my mum, maybe?"

Hope expands in Emily's chest when five seconds pass and Naomi hasn't wound the window up and tattooed the concrete with tire treads.

Naomi sighs, shakes her head as she shrugs. "We don't get on. That's the beginning and end of it."

"You could...try? Y-You used to get along."

"Emily, your mother's a miserable cow. All the friends she thinks she has in the office all slate her behind her back, and she deals with her failing marriage to your father by picking fights with me. She doesn't want to get along, and more importantly, I don't care to get along with her."

"My parent's marriage isn't...failing."

"Well that's great then Emily!" Naomi waves her hand about, finally resting it back on the steering wheel with another shrug. "I don't really care – I just know that your mother has issues. Now, are we done?"

Emily rubs her arm up to her shoulder, mumbles. "Thanks, you know, f-for speaking to me. You seemed angry at m-me in the office...today."

"Busy," Naomi enunciates, glancing at the pale porcelain fingers tap-dancing against the white paint of the car. "Not angry."

Emily nods that information in, drops her hand to her side. "Ok, w-well...have a safe journey home, Naomi."

The car remains stationary, and even with those sunglasses, Emily notices the confliction going on in the other woman's face...

"Where's your mum; how're you getting home?" Naomi finally breaks.

Emily allows herself a small smile. "She erm...she left. I stayed so that I could catch you."

Naomi glances at her watch, reaches across to the passenger seat and lifts a bag and some newspapers into the back seat. She presses another button, and there's a click which would be loud if not for the bustle of passing traffic. "Get in."

The gesture washes through Emily as she stands there, gives her the strength to brave the windy chill without a shiver. Everything's warm, until her mother's stern glare flashes in her mind. "Thank you, Naomi, but..."

"Just get in; I'll drop you off a street away from where you live."

"Thanks." Emily whispers, the rising car window cutting her off. She ambles round to the other side of the car, opens the door and gets in.

They journey in moderate silence the first five minutes, mostly because Emily's lost in noting everything about the interior of the car. The smell, the beige overlaying the seats, the boxing glove shaped air-freshener hung around the rear-view mirror.

It's part of Naomi's world, and Emily suddenly realizes that this is the first time in years that she's been in a car which doesn't belong to a Fitch.

It makes her cheeks swell with a smile.

"Where do I turn?"

Emily jolts out of her joy, her fingers floundering at the street they've just sped past. "You've just gone past it!"

"Fuck it," Naomi says to herself, twisting the wheel as she turns down a long road.

"Where a-are you taking me?"

Naomi briefly glances over at Emily before returning her gaze to the road. "Well, despite the things your mother's probably told you about me, I'm not going to kill you and then dump you in the bushes, so just relax."

Emily gulps, somehow stricken by Naomi's tone.

"I'm meeting someone at the bar, and I don't want to be late. I'll drop you home when that's done. Ok?"

"...Ok."

.

.

The drink topples from Emily's unsteady hands, gleaming shards of glass everywhere. "Shit!" She winces, as cold liquid seeps through the toe of her grey pump. Her eyes race for anything that'll mop it up, landing on a neat stack of serviettes sat on the mahogany table. She leaps for them and her elbow jars the glass resting close by. "Shit." She mutters, watching it's brown liquid slosh dangerously from side to side. "I'm so s-sorry. Shit."

Naomi curls her hand around Emily's nearest shoulder, stilling her at once. "Just, stop."

The younger girl nods, and Naomi lets go.

She leans back, shakes her head and rolls her cerulean eyes whilst lifting her glass to her lips, mutters. "God, is this what it's come to, me hanging out with a fumbling minor?"

Emily blinks and bows her head, hair curtaining her face like ruby velvet in the strobe light. Over the rim of her glass, Naomi feels the sight tug at something.

"Emily, I'm sorry."

The younger girl quickly shakes her head, stares off into nothing. "No, it's, it's fine."

Naomi sighs, another eye roll and a click of the tongue. "Look, I'm not really used to having to consider anybody else's feelings but my own and my daughter's. Most of the time it's just my own, since I only get to see her a week out of the month. If anything I say offends, I most probably don't mean it to cut so deep, ok?"

Emily turns to look at the woman sat beside her. She spends a long moment just...looking, before submitting to a small smile. "You, you have a daughter?"

Naomi sits her glass on their table, pulls out her purse, and smiles as she hands Emily a thumb-sized photograph. "She's thirteen now."

Emily squints in the mocha-skinned teenager in the small photo and smiles, absent as ever with her slow thumbing of it. "What's her, her name?"

"Thea."

"She's probably having to beat the boys off." Emily muses, small chuckle.

Naomi raises an eyebrow, clasps her glass again. "Not if her dad has anything to say about it. The day we found out we were having a girl, he started looking into buying a shotgun, so that he could blow any boys, looking to corrupt _his _daughter, to smithers." She chuckles fondly, before indulging another long sip of whiskey.

"Is that w-where she is right now, with her, her dad?"

Naomi peers down into her glass, swills the strong brown liquid. "Yeah." She throws the glass at her mouth and when it hits their table again it's empty. Heaves a large breath, "So, another drink?"

.

.

Emily pulls at the threading of her purse, unzips and zips it back. She turns it repeatedly in her hands, eventually resting it next to her unfinished drink on the table, boldly looking towards the woman who brought her here. She notes the collection of dark hair beginning to sprout from Naomi's sideburn, notices the arc of her slim nose.

She lowers her gaze and smiles one of those lopsided smiles...

Naomi sits her empty glass down, clicks her tongue at the silver hanging from her wrist, "Ok, now I'm getting annoyed."

"Maybe you should, I d-don't know..." Shrugs. "Phone the person you're supposed to be meeting?"

"I'm not phoning anyone, we had an agreement to meet here at a certain time, and he hasn't bothered to text. Nothing. Wanker can phone me."

Emily's lips quirk at that; she runs her fingers along them, taps them as her cheeks fight a grin.

"Are you drunk?" Naomi asks, eyebrow arched. "You've had two weak drinks and you're tipsy. Great."

"I'm n-not. It was just, it was funny the way you were calling him a, a wanker."

Naomi spends a moment staring at the girl sat beside her, then: "I'm going out for a fag, and if he hasn't arrived by the time I'm done, I'm dropping you off and going home."

Emily's grin falls straight from her face, but she nods anyway.

.

.

Finally mustering the courage, she stands up and walks past the crowd of rowdy lads, releasing a large breath when she pushes open the doors and walks outside. She spots Naomi behind a fog of burning tobacco, the breeze blowing her blonde locks around her far-gazed expression. Hugging herself, the small redhead cautiously walks over.

Naomi slips her lighter into her coat pocket. "You ready to go home then?"

"B-But...you haven't finished your cigarette yet."

"Have now," Naomi says, flicking the depleted butt to the ground. "He just sent me a text to say he can't come. Unprofessional tosser." She grumbles.

Emily's curiosity becomes thick, thick to where her concerns about coming across as a prier lessen considerably. "What were you supposed to be meeting him...f-for?"

Naomi stares at the slightly shivering girl beside her for a long moment, eventually responds. "I don't like having strangers in my house and I wanted to get a face to face quote on some double-glazed windows."

There's nothing Emily can do to hold in the nasal chuckle that suddenly escapes her.

"What's funny?"

Emily's mirth instantly dwindles. "N-Nothing. Nothing's funny." She mumbles, wincing.

"It's not always smart to be alone in your home with people you don't know." Naomi affirms, not a scent of mirth about her.

"S-sorry." Emily mutters, just because she feels like she should.

"I think it's time I dropped you home."

.

.

"Where've you been?"

"Nowhere mum. I, I just fancied a slow walk home." She pulls the tangled wiry mess of her earphones and IPod from her pocket. "Listened to some tunes on the way..."

"So getting you to go to the shop by yourself is near impossible, but you just fancied a walk home?"

"Mum –"

"I thought I told you to stay away from her Emily?"

Emily wraps the tangled earphone wires neatly around her IPod, slips it back into her coat, mumbles. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do."

"I don't..."

Jenna folds her arms, leans back against the banister. "I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me where you've been, Emily."

"I, I told you – and Katie never gets this third degree, ever! She comes and goes as she pleases."

"Yeah, well Katie can take care of herself." She watches her daughter pale, shakes feelings of being a terrible mother to say. "Donna sent me a text, said she saw you getting into Naomi's car as she was walking out of the office. _Now _tell me you walked it home." She raises her eyebrows when the stretching silence begins to irk on her nerves. "Go on!"

Emily's eyes dart all over the place.

"Where the hell did you let that bitch take you?"

Her daughter gives a pathetic one shouldered shrug, mumbles. "Nowhere."

"I want you to _stay_ _away_ from her! Just wait until tomorrow. She's not going to be able to walk by the time I've finished with her."

Emily slowly lifts her eyes, narrows stern hazels at her mother. "Mum," She glares. "Leave her alone."

Jenna regards her daughter with affront; her head leant slightly on its side. "Emily!" She chides, uncrossing her arms to rub at her sternum. "Don't you dare speak to me like that."

Emily kicks off her pumps, pushes past her flabbergasted mother and disappears up the stairs.

* * *

><p>"Where did you take my daughter yesterday evening? I want to know now!"<p>

"No hello, no how are you." Naomi drawls, not looking up from the report she's reading. "Nothing."

Jenna closes the door behind her, leans against it and folds her arms tightly.

"Careful on the cleavage there Jen, I may just lose all self-restraint and end up fucking you with my great big strap-on by mistake."

Every inch of Jenna's top lip curls with disgust, her neck momentarily shriveling into her shoulders as she shakes the image off. She jabs a finger at her co-worker. "If you took her to one of those repulsive –"

The documents within Naomi's grasp slap the desk loudly. She clasps her hands over them, nods, "Yeah, that's exactly what I did. I took your underage daughter to a gay bar, introduced her to a stud they call motor tongue, and had the two of them exchange numbers. Just a regular matchmaker, me."

"Fuck you Naomi."

Naomi' chuckles quietly to herself. "Get out of my office, Jenna. I've work to do."

"Tell me where you took my daughter! Now!"

"I just told you. I took her to a gay bar in the hopes that I could gay her up, seeing as I failed with you."

Jenna's eyes close to an evil squint as the memory plays out in her mind. "If I find out that you took my daughter to one of those..._places_." She spits. "I'm going to do everything in my power to make your life a misery. Stay _away _from my daughter. We understood? Good." She cranks the handle down, pulls open the door, and slams it shut upon her exit.

Naomi rolls her eyes, shakes her head. She scoots her chair closer to the desk, and resumes work.

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? Thanks for reading.<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to every one of you who read, or reviewed. It's great to know that people are vibing this story.**

**To LoveTypeThing-SureTypeThing, I used to suffer from social phobia, and attended the anxiety management classes for that, so to hear that you think I'm portraying Emily correctly was nice. Because I no longer have the anxiety, it's actually pretty difficult to go back to thinking in the terms that I used to, which is strange because at the time, the anxiety is so consuming. So I'm constantly wondering whether what I've written is accurate of Emily's situation or not. So thank you.  
><strong>

**Onto the next chapter then :)****  
><strong>

Chapter Four

Pandora taps the photocopying machine, smiles. "I remember, my cousin – he's bonkers, you know? – he done a load of copies of his bum n' stuck 'em up around town."

"I'll have to try that the next time I want a girl's attention." Emily says, absent as she taps numbers into the spreadsheet.

Pandora giggles. "You should start coming out with me 'n my friends, you know. They're wacko, but then so are you sometimes."

Emily's fingers stop on the keyboard's keys. She draws her hands away and rests them in her lap with a small smile, as she imagines a group of Pandora Moons. Looking over her shoulder at the girl operating the photocopier, she says. "Thanks Panda."

"What for?"

Emily thinks about it, smiles. "Just...thanks."

"It's nothin', just be careful telling my mate Cook you're a muff monkey; he proper loves muff monkey's, I'm tellin' you."

"Muff monkeys?"

"It's crazy the names they come up with innit?"

Emily blinks, turns away from the desk altogether, begins to peel at her breaking nail. "I'm still not really, you know, ok with this whole..." She sighs lengthily, grimaces. "If my family find out - welll...I don't even want to think about it. It's just, it's weird thinking that I'm eventually going to have to tell any new friends that I may meet that I, that I like girls. It's just, it's weird."

"Actually, you're probably gonna have to tell Cookie, or he'll be trying to do the surf n' turf with you, 'cause he's like that. You know: relentless?"

Emily manages to give Pandora a small smile. "Is he?"

"He could probably give you some advice on how to get Naomi." Pandora recommends, as though the light bulb's just gone off in her head. "I'd give you the advice myself, but I'm shit at pulling people." She says, cheeks wavering with unreleased laughter.

The swivel chair trembles under the ruby-haired girl as she breaks into a chortle, splutters. "You can't be any worse than me, Panda. Besides, no amount of advice will help; Naomi's straight, and I have literally _no _experience at all."

"You mean you've never..."

"No..." Her warm hazel orbs flicker to the carpet, then back up again. "Never."

Pandora quickly gathers up the warm sheets of paper sliding out of the photocopier, frowns. "But you're whizzer pretty. Half the guys that work here are dyin' to surf n' turf you, but they're bollocking scared of your mum."

Emily's hand lifts to catch her gasp. "You think?"

"Yeah. Kyle looks at you the way you look at Naomi," Pandora's lips split with a grin just then. "Like he wants to give you a proper pounding."

Emily grimaces, reaches up to thumb an itch at the side of her neck, "Christ Pandora, I, I don't look at her like I want to give her a pounding. I just, I just want to," She pauses, eyes graying as she goes off into her head. She then blinks, returns her orbs to warm honey brown. "I just want to spend time with her, maybe hold her hand, a little bit..."

Pandora smiles at the demure girl, hugs the sheets of paper to her chest, then stares off. "I reckon she's one to be romanced, swept off her feet, you know. Flowers, smoke messages written across the sky. All that lark, right?"

"Think so?"

Pandora raises hopeful but uncertain brows. "It's worth a try?"

"Oh God no." – Emily quickly shakes her head, shrivels into herself in wince. "I, I couldn't romance anybody. I'd cock up the message in the sky, or, or pick the wrong flowers. No." She shakes her head again, fiddles with her flustered bottom lip, looks to the safe grey carpet. "Naomi would look at me like I was an absolute headcase."

"Guess we're both useless then." Shrugs.

"Ugh!" Emily shudders after some time. "Well at least Mike's stopped leering at me since Naomi pulled him up about it. She was amazing - she even dropped me home last night. Her car smells amazing."

Pandora laughs, and Emily's cheeks blister a furious red.

"Erm, sorry." Clears her throat, straightens up her posture against the chair.

"Don't be, you sausage. It's proper cute, like the stuff romance novels are made from – actually, romance novels are made from paper aren't they, which comes from trees..." The sprightly girl suddenly comes back, drops the contemplative finger from her chin, flicks her wrist. "Anyway, you know what I mean."

* * *

><p>She puts her hand to her husband's bare chest. "No Rob."<p>

He rolls off of her with an exasperated click of the tongue.

She sits up against the headboard, taking her hand through her chaotic hair, as she listen's to the man beside her sigh long and hard...

"We haven't slept together in so long, I'm startin' to forget what you look like naked."

"Oh it hasn't been that long, Rob." She says with a quickness you'd use to quell a disobedient child's chat-back.

"Five months this Wednesday."

"Yeah, well how come you're never this precise when it comes to remembering my birthday?"

Rob tosses the duvet back with such gusto, that the wind generated by it momentarily steals Jenna's breath. "Where are you going?" She still manages to ask, watches Rob shove his size eleven feet into his torn, hole-ridden, slippers.

"You're doin' my head in. I'm goin downstairs." He says, snatching his black robe from its hook on the door, and shrugging it on.

The quilt lines furiously as Jenna balls it in her fists, shrieks. "Running away again? That's it little boy, run away!"

Rob quickly closes the door in, thrusts his finger at his lips with panicked eyes, whispers "Will you keep it down; I don't want the girls to hear our marriage splitting at the seams. Just shut up."

She gasps, narrows stern eyes, then: "You shut up."

Rob stands there, lets his shoulders, as well as his head, drop. Hair fallen tussled around his face, he slowly shakes his head, trembling with a defeated chuckle. "We can't stand each other." He looks to his frowning wife of twelve years. "Can we?"

Jenna looks to the quilt balled up in her hand, releases it. She inspects the condition of it, notes the nail marks and the ugly creases, and each word hits the bed when she murmurs. "Why don't you just say it, Rob, huh?"

"Why don't you say it?"

She keeps intense eyes with the patch of scrunched up quilt, smirks as she slowly shakes her head. "Typical. Leave it to me to do all the hard parts. Jesus," She chuckles. "Even Naomi's more of a man than you."

"Why in the hell are you bringin' that up eh? – If you want Naomi, fuck off with her then!"

Jenna sends her husband a steely glare. "Oh shut up idiot, it was never like that and you know it!"

"Well then why is she the first thing I hear about when I get in from work eh?"

"Maybe I want a reaction out of my husband when I talk about someone who tried to take me away from him!"

A moment passes before Rob scratches his head. He stands back, frowns. "Eh?"

"She didn't just _try _to kiss me, Rob."

"You what?"

"Her horrible lips connected for a second, and she ran her," Jenna closes her eyes in pure grimace as she rubs from her shoulder to her wrist. "She ran her disgusting hand down the back of my thigh. I pushed her flying."

Rob rubs his hand over his lips, eventually drops it to his side. "Why didn't you tell me it was more than an attempted kiss?"

"It shouldn't have mattered; you should've gone down to the office and sorted her out anyway."

Rob's big blue eyes pop, and he holds his palms out, pleads: "She's a woman, what was I supposed to do, _go down there_," He mocks in pantomime of how he thinks _Action Man_ would sound, "And give her a broken nose? Tell her I was gonna sort her out if she ever tried it on with my wife again? You made it seem like it was a one off, drunken moment."

Jenna rolls her eyes. "If some man tried it on with you, I'd tear him to shreds, Rob, and let him personally know that you were married. Naomi knew everything. Knew we were married," She folds down one of her five erect fingers, and then another. "Knew we had three kids, yet she still felt like it was ok to try it on. And you did nothing – worse than that, you undermined my decision to have Emily stay away from her, in bloody front of Emily. So now I have to watch our daughter swan around after that bitch at work, because she thinks she has you to back her up on it."

There's silence before Rob suddenly jabs his finger at his wife, "You made the whole thing seem like she was giggling and drunk, and, and like..." He frantically glances around the dark room, gesturing his hands about whilst he waits for the right words to come. "Like you pushed her away from you the moment she looked at you with hopes of a kiss in mind. You made it seem like you guys might have giggled about how drunk she was after you pushed her away."

"Yeah, well it wasn't all light and fluffy, as your mind seems to've coloured it, _Rob. _I felt disgusting for days, and when I told you about it, what did you do?" She nods, once, to the side. Deadpans. "You did nothing."

.

.

Emily removes her ear from her parent's bedroom door, blinks profusely to herself, before she slowly tiptoes the landing back to her own room…

* * *

><p>The door handle suddenly cranks, and within a second Jenna's poking her head around the door, wearing a frown. "Why aren't you in the shower yet Emily?"<p>

"I'm not going." Muffles from beneath the colourful duvet.

Jenna opens the door fully then, looks at her watch before folding authoritive arms across her chest. "Emily Fitch, get up, get showered, and get down that office this instant."

Emily slowly emerges from under the duvet, ruby strands of hair bent and electric, eyes wincing in line of the light streaming through the window. "I said," – She quickly raises a hand to her temple, cupping out the sunlight – "I'm not going. Tell them I'm…sick or, something."

Jenna stares at the lump beneath the _Powerpuff Girl's_ quilt. Her arms suddenly fall loose from their cross across her chest, and she sighs, clicks her tongue. "Well I suppose taking the day off is one way to keep you away from Naomi."

_Bingo_, Emily thinks.

"But you're not going to screw up this job. You already screwed up college."

When the door closes and she's all alone again, Emily jars, remembers what day it is…

"Shit." She slaps her forehead, "They're being delivered this morning. Shit."

* * *

><p><em>Because I think you're Beautiful<em> :- )

She slowly thumbs the small white card, wills a face to sit with the handwriting scribbled on it. Nothing sits. Nothing sits at all, and going over the small message over and over again is sending her cool cerulean eyes funny. She peers over the top of the small card, takes in the vibrant petals of the flowers currently lain on the desk, amongst various files and reports. They're bright, and arranged meticulously, with thought and care.

"They're definitely not from Anton then." She concludes to herself.

Eventually she takes the small white card and sticks it into the petals of the flowers, reaches over the stapler for her vibrating Blackberry.

"Hello?"

"How's it going love? You ok?"

Naomi smiles. "Yeah," She says, pulling open one of the desk's draws to retrieve a pen. "Mum," She interrupts, a frown returning to her face. "Someone's sent me a really lovely bouquet of flowers, and I have absolutely _no_ inkling as to who they're from. It's doing my head in."

"I'd like to tell you they're from me, but I can't claim this one, I'm afraid."

"Good job, since the message that came with them says, 'Because I think you're Beautiful.'"

She hears her mother's grin through the phone. "What, mum?"

"Nothing dear. I think it's wonderful that you have a secret admirer."

Naomi rolls her eyes. "Mum, I'm not twelve. I don't need a secret admirer."

"Yeah, but you like having one, don't you?"

Naomi smirks to herself, then clears her throat, reaching over to take the small card back from the flowers. She briefly looks it over again. "I can't place the handwriting on the card. Last thing I want is some weirdo stalking me; they always start out friendly, before they reach that stage of going through your rubbish for your old toothbrushes."

Gina chuckles are soft. "What about that girl you were telling me about – the one who's always, erm…" There's a brief pause, before her voice barrels into her daughter's ear. "The one who's always bringing you coffee at work?"

Naomi scoffs. "She's a fucking teenager, mum."

"And?"

"And so she's so off-limits, it's unreal."

"I'm not saying you'd do anything about it. I'm just saying that she could've sent them dear, that's all."

Naomi inhales a breath, says. "Right, well I think I'm going to go now. Got lots of," Sighs, running her gaze over the desk. "Work to do."

"Ok then love. Don't work too hard."

"Ok, thanks for phoning."

"No problem sweetheart."

"Bye."

"See you love."

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thank you for reading.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm really blown away by the fact that so many of you have taken to this story like you have. Thank you so much! Also, I can't believe some of your reactions to naomi and Jenna. I've always thought jenna was kind of hot :/ As for Naomi's age, I'm not answering any questions. I'm just going to tell the story : )**

**In the hopes that the reviewer Q clicks this chapter again, Jenna and Rob got married when the twins were 8. They haven't been married all the while. Emily is older than Naomi's daughter, not younger, but I'm sure the age issue will be an obstacle in whatever develops between Naomi and Emily ; ) Thank you so much for your review. I loved reading it : ) And yes, Jenna is HOT! lol  
><strong>

Chapter Five

Pandora quickly fingers through the files in the tray, repeatedly glances at the door as she squeezes her phone tighter between her shoulder and ear, grins when the right file jumps out at her. "Emily," She whispers. "I've found it."

"Thank you so much for doing this for me Pandora. Seriously, thank you." The husky voice replies. "I've got a pen and some paper; will you, erm, t-tell me the address please?"

Pandora shakes the file out and it unfolds fully, squints in the fine black print, quietly recites: "Eighteen, Malbrook Drive – she lives pretty close to my mate Cookie actually."

There's somewhat of a lull in their conversation, then, "I've got it. Thank you so, _so_ much!"

Pandora's smile fades as the realization of what she's just done dawns on her. "Emily?"

"…Yeah?"

"What you gonna do?"

"…I, I just want the truth." She pauses. "I, I want to hear it from her – I don't even know If I'm gonna go there or not. I mean, I haven't had the face to come into the office since I found out, so…"

"Panda misses our wacky conversations."

Emily let's what her friend's just said soak in, smiles to herself, then: "Panda?"

"Yeah?"

There's a brief pause, before: "How do the, erm, flowers look in Naomi's, erm, office?"

Pandora grins. "They look fandabydozy! I've seen her preening them, _twice_!"

Emily's eyes flutter closed, and she sighs so heavily that her phone momentarily condensates. "I feel like I can't enjoy knowing that; she's supposed to've kissed m-my mum; my parent's are fighting about it. Everything's just – I wish…I wish I wasn't so drawn to her," She sighs again, tuts, "I shouldn't have sent those flowers. But, she's just _so_ fucking beautiful all the time…I...I just wanted her to know it."

"Well…at least now we know that she likes tits and muff too?"

"I know Panda, but…"

Pandora eyes her _Mickey Mouse_ watch, "Look, I finish all this bollocks in two hours, you know. Do you want me to drive you to Naomi's tonight, so you don't have to go it on your tod? It'll be way cool, I'll wait in the car while you ask her if she did the lip tango with your mum or not."

Emily winces at Pandora's choice of words – however innocently stated – then the reality of the sprightly girl's offer sinks in: If she says yes, it means she's definitely going ahead with this, _tonight _– quite different from the evening of staring at Naomi's address in an attempt to muster up the courage to go to it, like she'd planned.

"Cockers!" Pandora suddenly whispers. "I gotta go, someone's comin'. Text me if you want me to take you. Bye."

"Bye – a-and thank you!" Emily quickly adds, the dial tone now ringing out in her ear. She presses the hang-up button, tosses the phone to her bed, quietly repeats: "Thank you."

She grabs the pot of orange sorbet sitting on the windowsill, sits it in her lap and scoops a load of cold, orange, slush onto her spoon...

After some time it begins to drip back into the pot as she loses touch of the present, lost in pondering Pandora's offer. The more she thinks about knocking on Naomi's front door, the harder her heart works in her chest, and the more the spoon in her hand trembles. She's not well-versed in some of the basics of social etiquette, but going all the way to Naomi's house to find out what happened between her and her mother seems like one of those things that'd make people go, '_**Who**__ does that_?'

* * *

><p>Katie flexes the fingers of both hands, fans them rapidly through the air, blows the maroon varnish she's just coated each nail with. "Why hasn't Ems been going into work?"<p>

Jenna curls and snuggles further down into the sofa, mouth stretching wide through a loud, lengthy, yawn. "Oh I don't know, Katie." She huffily shrugs a shoulder, her yawn elongating and mangling the words: "You're going to have to ask her."

"Huh?"

Jenna clicks her tongue impatiently, "I said you're going to have to ask her!"

Katie's hands slow their fanning, eventually find her lap. She stares at her mother, blinks her big round brown eyes.

Jenna slides her hand across the sofa, briefly touches her older daughter's knee with her hand. "Sorry darling. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just really..." Sighs, blinks with eyelids that feel as though someone's stashed a heavy bag of gold inside of them. "I'm just tired – work, taking you and James shopping. Today's just taken it out of me a bit, I think."

Katie only manages a smile which broadcasts how unconvinced she is, so Jenna touches her knee again, fills her expression with as much sun as she can. "So, you're twenty next week. Excited?"

Katie's entire face lights up, and its as though the last ten seconds haven't happened. "I cannot wait! Megan's throwing a party at her dad's golf club. It's gonna be mega!"

"Have you told Emily?"

Katie looks at her mother sideways, continues to blow her nails, frowning with one eyebrow arched. "What for?"

"Well, it's her birthday too."

"It's not like she'll come anyway."

"Well, she can't spend yet another birthday up in that room with a chicken curry and egg fried rice…"

* * *

><p>The remote control falls out from between the sofa cushions as she drops down heavily into the couch. It hits the wood floor with a loud crack. "Oh fuck off." She quietly groans, continues to wrap Thea's old baby blanket around a hot water bottle, carefully slips it beneath her jumper. Her eyes slowly fall shut at the waves of heat that begin to pulse through the muscles of her lower abdomen, and she wriggles slightly for a more comfy doze, vaguely aware of the sound of feet padding towards her.<p>

"Mom, wake up."

Naomi's eyes lift to the image of her daughter cupping a steaming mug. She smiles lethargically, gently nods towards the glass table. "Thanks baby, just put it on there please – and I wasn't sleeping. Just," Releases a long, slow, puff of air, "Just dozing."

Thea raises one eyebrow at her mom, then: "Yeah, yeah sleepyhead."

She bends to carefully sit the mug down, its bottom clinking the glass table a little too loudly.

"Careful hun."

"Don't stress mom." A light giggle flutters from the teenager's chest. "The table hasn't got feelings."

"Fudge the damn table, I'm worried about you burning yourself."

Thea scoops up the remote control from the floor and playfully throws herself backwards onto the couch, huddles close into her mother's warmth, settles into flicking through the channels.

Naomi's fingers emerge out from the makeshift glove she's made of her sleeve, taking the opportunity to brush aside most of the tight brown curls shrouding her daughter's temple. She stares at the smooth light brown skin, leans forward to press a tender, lingering, kiss against it, murmurs, "You bored, my muffin?"

"Nah, I'm ok."

Naomi leans back into her own space, gazes at the little amazing human snuggled into her – her little human. Something familiar tugs in her chest then, and her cheeks sink a little, "I'm sorry if you're bored."

Thea rolls her eyes, affectionately nudges her mother. "I'm not bored. I'm fine sitting here watching this."

Without compromising the muscles in her neck, Naomi lazily drags her eyes towards the television, frowns. "_Powerpuff Girls_?" She returns her eyes to her daughter, raises both brows, "Really?"

"I have a tape full of _Powerpuff Girls _episodes at home that I sometimes still watch. _Buttercup's_ fierce."

"Buttercup?"

"Yes mom, keep up." She teases, points the remote control at the bottom right corner of the television. "_Buttercup's_ the green one. _Fierce _mamojammer, this girl."

"Oh, right then...Well," Naomi drops her eyes to the fabric of the couch, "Sorry I can't be more fun at the moment; I must be boring you to tears. We'll go shopping tomorrow, ok?"

Thea waves her mother off, shrugs. "If you're not well, you're not well. Wish dad would understand that when I want a day off of school. Besides mom," She cranes her neck slightly, peers up into the most adoring set of blue eyes she's ever known, grins through a stilted giggle. "You're cute when you're all...ill and, stuff."

"Charming. What so," Naomi shakes her head. "I'm not cute when I'm up and about?"

"Hmm," Thea rubs her chin, taps it in contemplation, before giving a strong nod. "You lose about thirty percent of cuteness when you're up and about – I've done scientific tests – but when you're like this, you're all balled up and small, and your eyes look like Dexter's when he wags his tail against my leg 'cause he wants a biscuit."

Naomi gasps, nods her head back in almost convincing offence. "So now you're likening me to your dog? Even more charming, and just to let you know, the budget for our shopping spree tomorrow is shrinking by the second."

Thea smirks, snuggles further into her mothers side. "Let it shrink, but you'll always be a cute sick person."

They both jump when the doorbell suddenly chimes throughout the room, and Naomi throws her head back against the sofa, sighs a loud groan. "God, who the hell is that now? Don't they have their own kids they can watch _Powerpuff Girls _with, Christ!"

Thea's quick to scoot to the edge of the couch, her feet dangling off of it and brushing with the floor. "Want me to answer it?"

"No it's ok, I'll get it." The tall blonde grudgingly pulls the hot water bottle out from beneath her jumper, hands it to her daughter and pushes up from the sofa, joints clicking as she steps into her slippers and disappears into the porch...

.

.

Emily throws a quick glance at the blue car parked at the top of the street, mouths a panicked, "I can't do this," at the sprightly girl sitting in its driver's seat giving her the thumbs up. She suddenly freezes, feet welding to the step, when she hears the jangling of keys on the other side of the front door she's stood trembling in front of.

"Shit." She whispers, quickly turns around to scurry back down the steps, knows she's been too slow when she hears the door behind her open.

"Emily?"

The ruby-haired girl slowly turns around, grimaces.

"...What are you doing here?" Frowns deeply, fingers a pesky strand of blonde hair out from it's wind-blown trap between her lips. "How do you know where I live?"

The concern in Naomi's eyes as she tucks her arms into each other and leans in the frame of the doorway, waiting, makes Emily shudder with how creepy she's probably coming across.

"I erm, I erm," Looks around frantically "Erm..."

Naomi rolls her eyes, snaps her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "For God's sake, spit it out will you? What the hell are you doing here?"

Emily pulls her wind-blown cardigan around herself, stands there...staring.

"Know what? Can't be bothered with this tonight." Naomi draws away from the threshold of the door, begins to close it in.

"I wanted t-to ask you something!" Emily suddenly speaks up, immediately shrinks back into her shoulders as the door slowly opens back up again.

"And it couldn't wait until you saw me in the office?"

"...N-No." The younger girl folds one arm around her stomach, murmurs, "It's erm," Her eyes flicker down, up, then to the small bush just over next door's wall. "It's about my, my mum..."

"Right so, you're bothering me at eight-thirty in the evening to ask me something about your miserable mother? Are you shitting m–"

"D-Did you kiss her?"

Naomi's pales, spends a few seconds just blinking at Emily, her jaw subtly churning around the words she hasn't figured out how to say yet.

Emily doesn't stammer this time, stares wavering electric blue straight in the eye, asks, "Did you try it on with my mum? Is that why she hates you?"

Naomi briefly looks to the pavement, then glances up again, slowly shakes her head. "I don't know what she's told you, but," Continues to shake her head through an absent stare with the lamp post across the road, shrugs. "I was absolutely wankered on Rosé, we were both complaining about our men, and," Shrugs, "It just sort of...happened, I s'pose." Her shoulders momentarily lift with her large intake of breath, later deflating with her long exhalation. "I apologized, she slapped me, then she left." Rolls her eyes. "She's had mean girl syndrome ever since."

The truth constricts around Emily lungs, only leaves room for her to mutter a lackluster, "...Oh."

"Look I wasn't trying to break your parents up, if that's what you think. It was just a random flaw in my judgment. Your mum was just," She pauses, before: "She was just there at the time."

Emily's small nod barely disrupts the flow of air. "You kissed my mum." She whispers to herself.

"I don't really know what to tell you," Naomi sighs, "Stay away from Rosé, maybe?"

Emily slowly looks up, narrows her eyes and frowns slightly, snaps, "You think this is funny?"

Naomi humbles in the face of the fire raging in the other girl's usually soft brown hues, stands up straight. "Erm," She blinks, "No, bu –"

"My parent's are at e-each others throats!"

"Wait," Naomi frowns, squints off to the side, then returns her curious stare to Emily, asks. "Your parent's argue about it?"

"I-I erm...I need to go." Emily suddenly announces, spins around, scurries down the steps at blurring speed.

Naomi thinks she hears, 'I shouldn't have come,' and a snivel through the bushes at the bottom of the garden, briefly closes her eyes through a sigh, shouts, "Emily! I'm sorry!"

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone. I just want to give my thanks for your amazing words of encouragment. Your comments are sterling :) To those of you who apologized, you had nothing to apologize for. I wasn't insulted. I just wanted to set the boundary between author and reader. But thank you anyway guys :)**

**Onto the next then?**

Chapter Six

The door gently clicks behind her as she nudges it in softly with her bum. "...Hey."

Emily gives an uninterested nod, continues to slide the mouse over its desk pad and click its two buttons, never breaking her stare with the computer screen.

The other woman blows out a long breath, and when Emily eventually sneaks an eye towards her, she realizes the familiar energy of uncertainty charged in Naomi's gaze.

She sighs softly, pushes the mouse away from her, quietly asks, "W-What do you w-want?"

"Just to say sorry?" Naomi replies, raises her brows in what seems like a quest for permission to go on.

"W-What, what for?"

"When you, erm," Gestures her hand at nothing in particular. "Turned up at my house I'd already been in a bit of a pissy mood. I wasn't feeling too hot, my daughter was staying over, and..." Cerulean electric blue dart around the room whilst she waits for the most accurate words to come, "I couldn't do the things I'd planned for us, and I was frustrated – Then you asked me about your mum, and..."

"I don't want to...I don't want to talk about it." Emily mumbles, lowers her eyes to her lap...

"Well," Naomi says, grabbing the door handle and lightly twisting it down. "I just wanted to apologize, Emily. I was rude, and I didn't intend for what happened with me and your mum to be something that your parents argued about."

Emily feels the weight of Naomi's sincerity as she looks at her, sees it gleaming strong in those open – for once – blue orbs, feels guilt swarm beneath her ruby strands, because this isn't about her parents, at least it's not for her. "...Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah."

Naomi nods, even if it's lackluster. "Ok then. So…" She lingers momentarily. "Can I pump myself up for a Fabulous Fitch coffee on my desk in our normal fifteen minutes then, or," – She quickly shakes her head – "Is that me pushing it?"

Emily takes a moment to let her lips surreptitiously curl into half a smile, returns her palm to the mouse, scoots it to the right and quickly taps its left button twice, nods, "Ok then."

"Thanks Emily."

"S'ok."

"Right then." Offers a quick, tight, smile on her way out.

Emily then closes her eyes, lets the fingers around the mouse go limp, pants for all those breaths she's just forgotten to take.

.

.

.

She raises her fist, softly knocks her knuckles to the door.

"Come in."

She pushes the door open, shuffles towards the desk Naomi's sat behind, and sits the steaming mug down in a spot clear of papers.

"Thanks Emily." Naomi smiles. She reaches over a pile of reports, clasps the mug's handle and takes it to her lips, her eyes gently falling shut as the sweet, hot liquid frolics on her tongue. "It's good," She coos, lowering the mug. "Thanks."

Emily just nods, turns around to walk back out when the vibrant petals of the flowers leaned elegantly in their vase flash in her peripheral vision. She eyes them…

"What?" She hears from behind.

"Just…" She motions her hand at the beautiful bouquet. "T-The flowers. They're, they're nice."

"Yeah," Naomi sighs her way into a partially goofy smile, "They are rather beautiful aren't they? Fuck if I know who sent them though."

Back still turned on the woman behind her, Emily smiles to herself, eventually says, "Enjoy your Fabulous Fitch coffee then, Naomi" before walking out and quietly pulling the door in.

* * *

><p>"Do you know where the Eckleston pub is, Katie?"<p>

"Do you know what loyalty is, Emily?"

Emily sighs, folds the piece of paper with the address scribbled on it. "Fine, I'll just ask dad." She gets up from the sofa, only to be shoved back down into it. "Dad!" She shouts.

Katie looms over her, dares her little sister to get up with narrowed eyes. "What did I tell you about Naomi?"

"Dad!" Emily calls out again.

"That's right bitch, call dad."

"Katie, leave me alone."

Rob eventually walks in, removing soil covered garden gloves from his large hands. He looks between his two daughters. "What the hell's goin' on in 'ere eh?"

"Katie just shoved me."

"Yeah, because you were being a little bitch."

"Katie!" Rob warns.

"She was having a go about the whole Naomi thing, again."

Rob throws his gloves to the carpet, and the leaves of the nearby spider plant sway rather aggressively. He doesn't flinch. "I'm gettin' sick and bloody tired of hearing that woman's name in my house! Katie, leave your sister alone, you hear me?"

"No dad, she's –"

Her father raises his thick eyebrows, sits his hands into his hips, and tilts his head slightly to the side. "No?"

There's a moment where you could hear a pin drop, before Katie screams inside of her mouth, stomps past her father to get out of the room.

"You alright love?"

Emily slowly sits up, shrugs. "I don't know how much more I can take dad."

To her absolute deject, he responds, "Me neither love. Me neither."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

She picks at a string of cotton hanging out of her sleeve, peers into the spider plant's maze of leaves."...I'm scared, for you and, mum."

He walks towards his daughter, slips one of his arms around her shoulders, and her cheek presses into his chest as he pulls her into his body. "I didn't mean to say it like that love. Things aren't perfect; you know that. But, I'm sure we'll be fine. Ok?"

He feels his daughter's nod, disentangles himself, smiles down on her. "Fish 'n chips for dinner then or what?"

"Erm, I won't be here. I'm erm, supposed to be meeting Pandora and a few of her…friends at the Eckleston pub. But I, I don't know how to erm, get there."

"Tell you what: I'll give you a lift there, pick up dinner 'n then pick James up from Gordon's house. How's that sound?"

Emily smiles, extends on her tiptoes, rests her hand on her father's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you dad."

* * *

><p>The moment she walks in, the noise hits her like a hammer; gaggles of friends doing shot glasses and laughing as they stumble all over each other's toes. She glances back at the doors she's just come through, knows her dad's on the other side of them just starting up the engine. "Come on, you're completely fine; stop being a baby." She tells herself as she once more takes in the blur of flustered, sweaty, faces around her.<p>

"Emily! Over here! Over here!"

Emily twists in the direction of the call, grins slightly at Pandora's over the top volume before the other faces at the table sober her.

Two boys.

She grips her bag tightly, puts one foot in front of the other until she's sliding in next to a tanned boy with one of those short side-swept fringes she's always considered hilarious. Reminds her of her little brother.

He looks at her, smiles, partially lifts his fingers from the table in lieu of a wave. "Alright?"

"Erm, yeah...Thanks."

"Fuck Pandapops," The sandy-haired one says, drops his worn-out Adidas trainer from the table whilst taking his unlit fag from his lips, and leaning forward. "You never said she was fit!"

Emily smiles painedly at this boy's blatant inspection of her, the boxes he's ticking off in his head as he takes his eyes over every aspect of her small form, almost audible.

"I'm Cook." He lifts, extends his arm over the table at her.

She looks at it, knows what she's supposed to do because she's seen it countless times in films, knows she can do this. All of it.

Clears her throat, eventually lifts her hand and slips it into his, "Erm, I'm Emily."

"Nice name, Emily is," He says, sitting back down and folding one leg over the other in that laddish way that everyone adores him for. "Yeah, my foster auntie's called Emily. Proper fucking twenty-five carat diamond, that woman." He repeatedly nods to himself.

"…Is she?"

"Some of the other's couldn't make it. But Cook and Freddie are here," Pandora throws almost manic eyes between the two boys, smiles largely, "Aren't you guys?"

Cook and Freddie nod in unison, and Pandora picks her glass of larger up, takes it to her lips. Almost spills it all down the front of her floral dress with the haste at which she then abruptly tears it away from her mouth again. "We need to get Emily a drink! Freddie!" She says, backhanding her tall mate on his shoulder with what everybody else can see is just a little too much vigor, "Get Emily a drink will you? If she don't drink, she won't be pissin' corn like all the rest of us by the end of the night!"

Emily gulps, grips her bag just that little bit tighter as Freddie stands and shuffles past her knees to get out.

Cook stops twiddling the fag in his hand, leans forward on the table, his elbow propped for his palm to take the weight of his chin. "So, Emily, do you get much cock, or? Like, what's the situation?"

A small grimace sinks into the ruby-haired girl's brow, and Pandora touches her arm, says, "I told you what Cookie's like, didn't I? _Relentless_!" She squeals a little too loudly, leaving both Cook and Emily with winces in their expression.

Emily shakes her ringing eardrums off, quietly tells the brazen boy: "I-I've just met you. I'm not going to tell you about my, my situation, am I?"

Cook leans back, as though a phantom hand has just shoved him in the chest. But he's grinning that laddish grin. "Feisty red; I like it."

"N-No, I, I didn't mean it like th –"

"Well I think you should give the Cookie monster a go, how about it red?"

Pandora huddles down in her seat, repeatedly glances between them, and gulps what's left of her larger.

"…Erm," Quickly shakes her head, ruby fringe shimmering over one of her hazel eyes, "I, I, erm…" She looks to Pandora for assistance, but the fluster spread throughout the hyper girl's face, coupled with the rate at which she's gulping from her glass, is deterring to say the least.

_Come on_, she thinks. _Just say it_.

Cook beats the face of his watch with his fingertip, "Come on Red, your chances to take a ride on the Cookie monster are dwindlin' by the second."

"…I'm, erm…"

"Back guys," Freddie announces out of nowhere, drinks in hand. He leans over the table, places Emily's larger in front of her.

Instead of muttering a thanks, she blurts. "I'm gay!"

…

A smirk slowly emerges of Cook's lips, Pandora grins, and Freddie stops and stares at the small girl…shrugs, "Great," and then continues to put down the drinks…

.

.

.

"Oh whizzer!" Pandora suddenly touches Emily's knee, turns to her. "You better phone your dad to pick you up, 'cause we're leavin' in a minute."

Emily nods, tries to grasp the zip on her bag with her thumb and index finger an obscene amount of times, before finally getting it. She sucks in a long breath, and then slowly lets it out, steadying herself as she unzips the small bag, pulls out her phone. That stumbles from her grip too, smacks the wooden table with a sickening thud. "Shit!" She whispers, scooping it back into her hand and inspecting it for marks.

"Careful, my old muff monkey red. How many drinks you even had?"

It takes a second for her to realize that she's being spoken to, before she lowers her phone to her lap and looks up at Cook, noting his amusement. She groans quietly, "I can't believe I let you talk me into doing shots; my dad's gonna smell the alcohol when he picks me up."

"You might wanna go outside and practice walking in a straight line before you have to walk to your dad's car, and he sees you doing the zombie walk." Freddie puts in, just lifting his drink to his mouth in smirk.

Emily stares at him in a solemn moment, then melts into giggles, cupping her mouth as she falls forward onto the table. When she sits back up – small ripples of mirth still jolting through her – her face is just as flustered as everybody else's in the pub. Her reflection shows itself to her on the dark wooden table, in the puddle of golden beer that Pandora accidently spilt over earlier. She grins ineptly at it, because for once, she fits in.

"You 'right there, Emily?" Freddie asks.

"Never been better."

* * *

><p>He pushes the heavy box along the concrete with the toe of his trainer, picks another box up and stacks it on top. He stands, looks around, sighs. "This garage is a right bloody state."<p>

Jenna tuts, carefully slides a box further back onto its shelf. "Just don't break the good China; you're like a bull in a China shop sometimes."

Rob looks at his wife. She's beautiful, hair all undone from a busy day, cardigan half way down one of her flawless cream shoulders. A pain rickets through his chest as he thinks upon what they've become, not just because of the Naomi situation, but because of a whole box full of other things too.

"I think," He starts, fingers an itch at the side of his nose, "I think I'm gonna have to pop round 'n see Naomi, you know."

The packets of birthday balloons and banners smack the bottom of the box as Jenna begins to hardball them in, clenches her jaw. "What's the use of that _now_, _Rob_?"

Rob stands there, deadpans, his shoulders slumping. "So you go off on one the other night about how I should go 'n sort her out, and when I mention it, you say that? I'm damned if I do, 'n damned if I bloody well don't! I'm sick and tired of hearin' that woman's name mentioned in my house. It's past the point of ridiculous now, so if you want me to go 'n have a word with her, tell her to stop the smart-arse barbs at work, then I will!"

Jenna spots the banner she's been searching for, stuffs it under her arm, and walks out, muttering. "Do whatever you like, Rob."

* * *

><p>All day she's been hearing happy birthday, but as she walks out of her local doctor's surgery, alone, with a referral to Broadway West's anxiety management course, she quietly tells herself: "Happy birthday Emily."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Pandora places the copies on the desk, spins around to bounce back out of the room.

Naomi quickly stuffs a file into a plastic folder, looks up, briefly scratches the space between her lips and nose. "Erm, don't leave just yet please, Pandora. I wanted to talk to you about something."

Pandora slowly slips her hand from the door handle, gradually turns around. "It, it weren't me who left the logs in the toilets, promise! It was Kyle 'n them. They thought it'd be funny, and then –"

Naomi cuts her frown short to raises both brows, "What the hell are you on about?"

"Oh…" Pandora flushes a deep red, rolls her eyes and waves her hand through the air in dismissal. "Nothing," She waves her hand again. "What did you wanna talk to me about?"

Naomi stares at the girl. "Before I say anything else, Pandora, I just want you to know that I think you're strange. Ok, so now that that's out of the way," She says, slipping another file into the plastic folder, "I'm organizing a jog-a-thon to raise money for Cancer's Aid, and," She absently drawls, slides another file into the plastic folder, "I was wondering if you, Emily, and a few others would help me set it up? Help print flyers, set up the sponsor forms; that kind of thing?"

"Awww, that's whizzer cool, charity 'n all that. I once wanted to setup a charity for lads who accidentally get their balls trapped in their trouser zips – happened to my uncle, and now he's only got one ball. My family was sad for days. I even held my own little memorial ceremony for, you know," She hunches her shoulders, cups her mouth, whispers, "The deceased ball."

Naomi's palms her stomach in a slow circular motion, groans in grimace, "_Really_ didn't want to know that."

"Sorry?"

"So can I put you down for helping out, or not?"

"Bet your bloomin' arse you can, and I'll ask Emily about it too if you want!"

"Great." Naomi smiles, clasps her hands on her desk. "By the way, if either of you decide you want to participate in the jog-a-thon as well, you're more than welcome. The more people taking part, the better."

.

.

.

Pandora finds Emily in the kitchen, nearly dislocates the poor girl's shoulder as she pounces on her in excitement. "Emily! Guess what? Guess what!"

"Ow," She winces, slowly takes her hand up and down her arm, frowns whilst closing a draw in. "What?"

"Naomi's doin' a charity event for Cancer's Aid – a jog-a-thon – and she wants us to help her with it! Flyers, sponsor forms, the whole flamin' shebang! I've already agreed to do it, the jog-a-thon as well, but she asked me to ask you, so you gonna help?"

Not even the kitchen wallpaper expects Emily to look to the ground and sigh, but she does, with a heavy slump of the shoulders and everything.

"What's wrong? Naomi wants you to help her out. Thought you'd be proper buzzin'!"

"It's…It's not that, Panda. I'm just, I'm just trying to keep my distance f-from her…"

Pandora's face falls, and she frowns, as though Emily's decision to cool things on the Naomi front somehow breaks her heart. "But, but you really like her."

Emily looks up, sighs. "I know, but…let's face it: nothing's ever going to happen between us. I, I'd be crap in a relationship, and, and she would _never_ like me back anyway – then there's the whole thing with my mum. Pandora, d-do you know that there are now days where I sometimes sit and compare my physical appearance to my own mother's, rating us both out of ten? She beats me every time. That…" Coffee hues flicker to the safe grey carpet, linger there, "That's not a nice feeling…"

"But they don't like each other now, and weren't Naomi pissed out of her skull when it happened? So you aint got nothin' to stress about?" Pandora raises her eyebrows in hope.

"But she must find my mum attractive on _some_ level. She kissed her. She kissed my mum. I'd, I'd never kiss anyone I wasn't attracted too, at least," – She raises her hand, creates a small space between her thumb and index finger – "A tiny bit. It's a little bit weird. I just don't, I don't really want to be around Naomi if being around her is going to make me feel like, like this. Plus, I'm always so drained after being here all day. Don't think I have the energy to help with the charity event."

"So…" Pandora shakes her head, glum, "You won't do the jog-a-thon?"

"No, I erm," She retracts her hands up into her sleeves, folds an arm around her stomach, mutters, "I don't think so, Pandora."

Pandora stares off blankly, "I'm up shitter's creek now then."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"I've told Naomi I'll do it, and I aint got a shit in hell's clue about how to design flyers 'n all that – that was gonna be your role, 'cause you're boss at all that sort of stuff, aint ya?"

Emily stands there, stares at the one person who, without even seeming to know, has helped her along for the past two months. She feels her own arms lifting to initiate a hug, gently pulls Pandora into her. "Actually...yeah," she nods, "I'll do the flyers." Smiles warmly, pulling back. "I'm being silly, and it's for charity, so..."

"Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"You're way prettier than your mum, just to let you know, inside 'n out. You're bloomin' bonkers to think otherwise!"

.

.

.

They both reach the elevator in unison.

Emily immediately hugs her midriff, eyes turned down.

Naomi reaches forward, repeatedly knuckles the appropriate button, wills the doors to slide open with a focused stare. "I'm glad I've bumped into you actually, Emily – did Pandora tell you about the charity event I'm putting together?"

"Erm, yeah…she, erm…she did."

They both step inside of the small lift, both watch the steel doors before them slide closed.

"So…" Naomi drawls, peers into the mirror on the wall to her left. She instantly clicks her tongue, tugs straight the dog-eared corner of her collar, then looks to the ruby-haired girl stood beside her. "Is it something that you'd be interested in being a part of?"

Emily's ticker thumps beneath her shirt; she's certain Naomi can see and hear it with their proximity, just wants to close her eyes until the elevator pings, and one of them walks out…

"Emily?"

"Yes," She mutters, opens her eyes, "Yes, I'll do the flyers. Panda's s-said she'll do the, erm, the sponsor forms."

There's a moderately loud snap in the small space as Naomi's palms come together with a cheerful force. "Marvelous." She grins, taking the roll of files back out from under her arm. "Well, I can't really tell you my ideas for the flyers now, since," She holds up the roll of paper, nods at it, "We've both got work to do, but since you already seem to know where I live, it would be good if you could drop round one of the nights this week, and I could really give you an outline as to what I want to achieve."

Emily gulps, then rubs her throat.

"You alright?"

"…Yeah," Clears her throat, mumbles, "So, y-you want me to come round to your, erm, your house to d-discuss ideas for the, the flyers?"

"Erm," Naomi's eyes flicker around the lift, as if in search of whatever it is that Emily is getting at, "Yes. Is that," Frowns, glances elsewhere before returning her eyes to Emily, "Is that a problem?"

_Possibly_, Emily thinks, _But__ the __way__ my__ heart__ is__ banging__ around __at__ the __moment,__ might__ be__ a__ bigger __one_.

"N-No. I'll, erm, I'll sketch out some ideas of m-my own, and, you know," Shrugs a shoulder, "Bring them w-with me. Is seven-thirty Tuesday a-alright?"

"All my days play out exactly the same way unless it's a Friday, when my daughter stays round, so yeah," Naomi nods, smiles, tucking an unruly strand of blonde behind her ear. "Tuesday is fine."

"Ok then," She takes a deep breath, blows it out, "Tuesday, seven-thirty."

"Thanks Emily."

The lift suddenly stops, jolts them both in a turbulent moment.

Naomi quickly presses a palm to the wall, steadies herself. "They seriously need to sort this bloody lift out. Balance and coordination doesn't improve with age, and I'm one who'll prosecute."

Emily wants to raise her hand, chuckle quietly into the back of it, but she doesn't. Instead, steadies her own small frame with a grasp around the chrome bar that's attached to the wall closest to her.

"I'm lucky I gym regularly – Is this door going to open or what?"

As if privy to the tall woman's grunts of complaint, the doors slowly part; the mechanics of it loud and hostile sounding. "So I should think so!" She tells them, tuts, steps onto the third floor. She throws a small smile over her shoulder as she disappears down the narrow hall, says: "Thanks again for helping me out."

Emily steps forward on one foot, jabs the fourth floor button. Once the doors close, she steps back, softly shuts her eyes, rubs her sternum in slow circles. "What on Earth have you just agreed to?"

* * *

><p>Rob twist his keys in the ignition, feels the engine ferociously begin to rumble beneath him. He reaches in the dark for the glove box, suddenly stopping to eye his disheveled reflection in the rear-view mirror. Only manages five second's eye contact with himself, before he looks out of the window at the bungalow he's just snuck out of, stinking of perfume and other feminine scents. His eyes fall closed, and he leans against the steering wheel, cups his forehead in his hand, sighs: "What the fuck have you just done, you bloody muppet?"<p>

* * *

><p>Naomi carefully holds the hot mug out. "Here you are."<p>

The thin wisps of steam that float into Emily's vision stir her from her disbelief at the fact that she's currently sat on Naomi's cream couch, looking around her living room. "Oh, erm," She jars, places one of her template flyers down on the glass table, takes the mug into both hands, quietly offering, "Thank you."

Naomi flexes the fingers of her hand, sits back down on the couch and readjusts the specs sat on her nose. She leans forward slightly, picks up her favorite of the flyer designs so far, and runs slow eyes over it, absently says: "Makes a change, me making you hot beverages, doesn't it?"

"Mmm." Emily nods, taking a cautioned sip of her tea. "How t-the, how the mighty have fallen."

Naomi lowers the flyer from her face, smirks at the ruby-haired girl over her specs in a moment of silence. Eventually clears her throat with a gentle _ahem_, holds the flyer in her hand back up, and continues to inspect it.

"...Sorry."

"What for?" Naomi frowns, though she continues to scrutinize the small flyer. "It was funny. But once I'm back in my power suit tomorrow morning, expect to feel it." Her dimples emerge in her soft but slightly menacing chuckle, as electric blue drop to the bottom of the design. "I'm going to have you making me coffee until your fingers are stained and numb."

Emily doesn't respond, utterly lost in gazing the mirthful older woman over the rim of her mug. It feels strange, seeing her like this, in a t-shirt too big for her and a pair of baggy red shorts, blonde hair tussled back in a lax bun. No tight-fitted grey blazer, no white shirt, and no slacks. It's strange.

But nice too.

She smiles to herself, if not for anything else but for how far she's come since arriving on Naomi's doorstep an hour and a half ago, a trembling, stammering, klutz.

She's suddenly reminded that the anxiety management classes commence in two weeks, and although the thought has her bricking it, her heart fills at the thought of one day being able to interact with others without the mortifying stammer, and that constant fear of doing or saying something inept.

"Yes!" Naomi suddenly nods emphatically, shakes the small flyer at Emily, then lays it down between them and pats it, once, "This one is the one I want to use. It's fantastic, conveys the message of unity, and it's colourful." She fingers out the flyer's title, twists up her mouth momentarily, before relaxing her lips. "If we could just change the colour of this here. Not too fond of the green - maybe change it to gold? Everything else is great, otherwise. Great work."

"Glad you erm..." Clears her throat, smiles, "Like it. I spent f-forever on that one, in particular."

In the next moment, Naomi reaches into the pocket of her shorts, pulls a twenty pound note out, gestures for the other girl to accept it. "Just a small token of my thanks." She smiles warm and lengthily.

"N-No, it's, it's ok. I did it for, for charity. It's for..." Stares long into the golden, milky, liquid swimming around her mug, "Charity..."

The other woman shrugs with both shoulders, carefully folds the money and holds it up at Emily. "It really doesn't matter what you say; you're leaving here tonight twenty quid richer, so you might as well just take it now, and save us both the energy."

"...Erm..."

Without waiting to hear the rest, Naomi gently slots the money into the breast pocket of the shorter girl's shirt, uncurls her long limbs as she stands and looks at the clock through a quick yawn. "Quarter past nine." She reads, glances over her shoulder at the girl who can't seem to stop staring at her breast pocket. "I'm assuming your parents don't know you're here?"

Emily slowly lifts uncertain hazel hues to Naomi, then looks down, shaking her head. Hears the other woman sigh lengthily.

"Right, well, maybe I shouldn't have had those glasses of wine earlier, because I seriously can't be bothered to operate a vehicle right now..."

"...It's ok. I'll j-just get a," Blinks profusely whilst rubbing the back of her neck, fidgeting. "A taxi..."

Naomi stands there for a moment, blinks a few times as she stares at Emily, can't help but imagine some sleazy taxi driver leering at her in the rear-view mirror, before locking all four car doors, and smirking. The imagery is all too significant, all too real for her.

All too real.

"Erm," She scratches the point of her nose, strides over to the window and pulls the curtain back a little, frowns at how dark it is beyond the garden. Looks back at Emily. "If you don't mind taking the couch, you can stay here. You might be a bit late into work though."

Emily looks up, blinks. "A-Are y-you sure?"

Naomi draws back from the window, smoothes the curtains down, and smiles at Emily as she begins to collect some of the papers lain on the glass table into a tidy pile, winks. "Long as you don't nick anything whilst I'm sleeping, we're good."

.

.

.

"I like that your daughter's mixed race." Emily blurts all over the silence, blushes an unflattering crimson when Naomi re-emerges from her bedroom in nothing but black lace and tosses her a thick blue blanket.

"That gonna be warm enough for you, or..."

Emily hastily lowers her eyes, balls up the thick blanket in her arms, nods. "Yeah, it's f-f-fine...Thanks."

Halfway through her bedroom door, Naomi pauses and spins back around, pulling loose her bun. "What were you saying just now, before I brought out the blanket?"

Emily startles slightly, flits her eyes straight back at the floor as opposed to the ab definition of Naomi's beautifully toned stomach. "Oh, erm, just that I like that she's mixed race, your daughter I mean. It's..." She shrugs, smiles at the wall-hanging picture of Thea and Naomi on some beach, laughing at a destroyed sandcastle. "Different."

Naomi frowns. "Actually, it's not all that _different_. We _do _live in the twenty-first century. Everywhere you look, there's a person of dual-heritage."

Dual-heritage. Emily feels that for all her twenty years, she should've already stumbled across that term. But that's not of main concern when Naomi is staring at her through partial glare.

"I-I didn't mean anything by it. I just," Sighs, quietly clicks her tongue in her mouth. "...I don't know. I'm, n-not the best with w-words..."

Naomi remains silent for a second, then: "Night Emily."

As she disappears into her room, Emily follows the dimples at the older woman's lower back with her eyes, sighing as she scoots down into the couch and throws the blanket over her head. "_Such _a fuck up."

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**I did take this story down, but I've decided to post it back up again, as I still found myself writing it even after removing it. Thanks in large part to Phantomfundraiser, who, from what I've seen, is a lovely person, and a few of the other commenters who offered kind words in reviews : )**

**Next chapter then?  
><strong>

Chapter Eight

Jenna cranks the key to the right and lets herself in, drops the bags filled with shopping to the floor before locking the front door back.

"It's only me mum! Just brought your shopping!" She calls towards the living room, wraps some unruly black strands behind her ear, listens for that usual creak in the sofa.

Silence.

She sighs with a tut, and the bags weigh on the folds of her fingers as she collects them up and heads for the kitchen, placing them all on the large wooden table...

"Oh, bless you for bringing the shopping, dear."

Jenna's eyes flit towards the door, rest on her hunched, slow-moving, silver-haired mother. She leans her lower back against the work surface, folds her arms, smiles as emphatic a smile as she can muster. "Were you asleep?"

The older woman nods, slowly hobbling across the kitchen using the backs of the wooden chairs for stability. "You look like you could do with a couple days sleep yourself." She says under breath, carefully slips into one of the chairs around the table with consideration for her sensitive hip.

Jenna stands up straight, tucks some hair that isn't there behind her ear, "Oh I'm fine, mum. Have you taken your medication yet?"

"I've been roaming this earth far longer than you, Jen. A hip replacement, gray hair, and four pairs of dentures down the line, I know when my own daughter is fibbing me off."

"Why has there always got to be a problem?" Jenna snatches the bottle of milk from its shopping bag, yanks open the fridge, and drops it in the door with thunderous commotion. "I said I was fine, and I am." She says, slamming the jar of mayonnaise in next to the bottle of milk. After some time spent just standing there staring into the fridge, she clears her throat, gently shuts the door. "Everything's fine, I'm just a bit tired with work."

"How are James and the girls?"

"They're normal happy kids, mum. Just normal happy kids."

"Nobody said they weren't darling."

Jenna crosses her arms across her chest again, glares at the woman who birthed and raised her all those years back. "This is why Carla doesn't stop by here to help you out; because you're always trying to make us feel bad about our lives, and all of the things we haven't achieved."

The older woman's jaw drops in a moment of silence, then: "I just want to know how my daughters are doing. Now," She says, dragging a bag towards her and having a nose around inside of it. "How's Rob?"

Jenna rolls her eyes. "Just like everything else you've quizzed me about today, Rob's _fine_."

"If everything was fine, you wouldn't be getting so defensive - you forget that I know you like the label on my walking stick."

Under her mother's watchful gaze, Jenna continues to pack the cupboards, toss bread in the bread bin, empty teabags into their jar...

"I have some money stashed on the bank. If you're really that tired with work, take a few months off."

Jenna slowly closes the cupboard under the sink, looks at her mother with an apologetic smile. "Thanks mum," She says, slipping into another vacant chair at the table, "But I'll be ok. I'll be...fine." She croaks, eyes filling. Her eyelashes rapidly flicker down, and a drop of water falls from them, splashes the table.

Her mother sighs, reaches across the table to gently rub the back of her hand. "What's the matter poppet?"

"I think," Wipes at her eye with the back of her thumb, gasps for air. "I think Emily's," She sniffs the tears back, "I think she's," Looks her mother straight in the eyes. "Gay."

Frowns. "What on Earth makes you say that?"

Eyes red-rimmed and veined, Jenna gazes into the wood of the table for a long moment, tries to gather herself. "She erm, she stayed out a few nights ago," Shrugs a shoulder, reaches into her pocket and retrieves a tissue, empties her nose into it loudly, "Says she stayed at the house of one of the young girls from work, but," She blows out an exasperated huff of air, shakes her head as she continues her gaze with the knots in the wood. "I've got my doubts."

"Well where else would she've stayed?"

"God," Jenna suddenly says to herself, absently runs a finger back and forth her bottom lip, "She's got a bloody computer in her room too; God knows what sorts of things she's probably been looking at." She shudders at the thought, eventually drags her bag towards her, rummages until she's pulling out a small purple and silver book. She places it on the table out in front of them, looks up at her mother. "I found her diary..."

"And?"

"One of the women at work, the one I don't get on with; her name's Naomi." Slides the book across the table, nods at it. "Look at the last few pages..."

The older woman gulps, flips the small book over, opens up its back cover. Her tired eyes travel the scribbles written to the page on display, "I love her, I love her, I love her...," Pauses, peels back the page before, "I love her, I love her, I love..." She stops then, simply blinks across the table at her broken daughter - the daughter that she's always considered the strong one. "Jenna," She mutters sympathetically, "Love..."

Another tear splashes the wood as Jenna mops her nose with her tissue, croaks, "That's not even the worst of it, keep going."

Her mother collects the corner of the page before in her wrinkled, pale, fingers, hesitates. "We shouldn't panic, darling. She doesn't go out much; maybe she's just not met a boy yet."

"Turn the page, mum."

She slowly lifts the page, frowns deeply at it. "Naomi?"

"Yes! Bloody Naomi," She grunts through caged teeth and a steely glare. "Written time and time and time a-bloody-gain. It's absolutely disgusting!"

"...Are you going to talk to her about it? She's going to be upset that you went through her diary."

"Of course I am!" She almost yells, her rage all hitting the wrong person. She sniffs, alters her tone to something softer. "If she talked to me, told me the truth about where she stayed the other night, I wouldn't have gone snooping this morning. She's been really rebellious since she's started working," Shakes her head, squints evilly at the wood, _"Not _my sweet, quiet little Emily anymore."

"You know I'm not condoning her behavior, but she's twenty now. She's not going to be sweet and quiet, and easily told anymore. Lord knows I tried to keep your sister that way, and now I have to depend on you to bring me my shopping, because she won't come round." Gently squeezes her daughter's hand, smiles somewhat. "Have you spoken to Rob about it yet?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because...Because he'd probably be ok with a gay daughter."

* * *

><p>She pats the pockets of her coat down as it hangs on the back of the swivel chair, frantically pulls out draw after draw, even searches the photocopier's mouth.<p>

Nothing.

Breathless, she stands in the middle of the small room, scrunches her ruby hair in one hand, gives a low but husky growl. "Where the fuck is it? It's not at home, it's not in the car. Wher –"

When the door suddenly opens behind her, she spins around, lets her hand fall back to her side, frowns. "Naomi."

"Yeah. Can I have a word?"

"...What about?"

Naomi gently pushes on the door, and it clicks shut. She stares at Emily a moment, before crossing the small room towards the swivel chair, sits in it, looks up at the red-haired girl with what many would consider an undecipherable gaze.

"...What?" Emily utters when she can't take it anymore, and she suddenly feels inclined to fold both arms across her lower midriff, suddenly feels the need to make herself smaller.

Crosses one of her long legs over the other, leans the point of her elbow on the desk at a side-ward angle. "Emily, do you know anything about the flowers in my office?"

Emily's mouth instantly dries, and her heart begins to thud so hard that she's sure there will be nothing left of it by the time the hands on her ten-thirty-five showing watch reach ten-thirty-seven.

"...I...I..."

"Just a simple yes or no."

"W-Why would I know," Looks down, winces, "Anything?"

"Well," Naomi sits up straight, slips her hand into her blazer pocket, pulls out an IPhone and places it on the desk. "I found your phone; you forgot it at mine."

Emily slowly looks up, the relief that should be filling her at seeing her phone again eluding her. It's the complete opposite. It's dread. Utter dread. Whispers:"Fuck."

Naomi rolls her eyes, "Look, if you sent the flowers, then just tell me. If you sent them as some kind of prank to avenge what happened between me and your mum, then just say so, and we can all move on knowing where we stand."

"No, I...I didn't."

"Well if you didn't send them, why've you got a revolving flash show of them as your screensaver - all taken in my office?"

"No, I, I mean I didn't send them to get revenge." The words are out of her mouth too quickly for her hand to catch. She feels like crying, like running all the way home, throwing the duvet over her head and crying herself into dehydration.

"So," Naomi slowly dips her head in an attempt to understand, "You _did_ send them?"

"I just, I wanted..." Sighs, runs a hand through her hair. Blinks back tears.

"Hey," Naomi says, her one cheek bunching in a soft smirk. "Stop stressing yourself out. It's ok. The flowers were very nice. For the record, you've got impeccable taste."

"Stop trying to make me feel," Sniffs, "Better."

Shrugs. "Well you're not doing a very good job, so I might as well."

"Everything's gonna be all...weird and awkward between us now, and, and-"

"You've got to admit; things were pretty awkward between us before, only now I know why." She stands, pats Emily's shoulder once, smiles. "It's fine."

"...Really?"

"Really." Naomi nods, never relenting the comfort in her smile. "Despite the fact that you're nineteen, it was a nice compliment."

"I'm...twenty, not," Shakes her head, meets Naomi's eyes, "Not nineteen."

Naomi shrugs, "Twenty then."

"How old are...you?"

Naomi chuckles, makes a show of having a stiff back. "Too old."

"What's, what's too old?" Emily dares to push.

Naomi frowns, folds her arms. "You're an inquisitive creature, aren't you?"

Emily grimaces, looks away.

Naomi then rolls her eyes, drops her arms: "Well if you must know, I'm thirty-two."

Emily nods to herself, tucks that little fact safely away in the back of her mind, along with all the other little things she's picked up about the other woman so far.

"Well now that I've solved the mystery of the flowers," Naomi declares, making it over towards the door, "I think I'll get back to work."

"...Ok."

"And Emily?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"Don't worry about it."

Nods, once, albeit barely, then musters: "N-Naomi?"

"What?"

"Could you not use this as erm, as ammunition for your next argument with my mum, please?"

"I've actually taken to ignoring your mother at this point, so there's no danger of her finding out from me."

.

.

.

She closes in her office door, walks straight over to the vibrant vased flowers, chuckles as she thumbs a smooth petal. "And against mother's wishes, here's me thinking I needed Botox."

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**First of all, I'm absolutely blown away by the response I got after putting this back up again. I want to apologize for ever taking it down. A lot of the discouraging comments just got irritating after a while, and as I explained to Phantomfundraiser, I had started to write this as an outlet for other stressful things going on in my life at the moment, so for this to be anything but pure fun, seemed a little redundant. But cheers to every last one of you who has shown this story love. I really appreciate it : )**

**EmZ2009, I don't think you'll have to hunt me down and pester me to finish this, as it seems to just be writing itself at the moment. Thank you so much for your in-depth comment : )**

**triniredster, I agree. I only keep a diary for appointments, and that's it lol. As for your question about the significance of the title: I've long known about the significance of colours, their capabilities and the emotions associated with each one as they correspond with the seven main Chakras of the body. (I dabble in colour therapy) Green can mean a whole bunch of other things, mostly to do with the emotions we store in out heart, but it is commonly used to refer to someone who isn't very worldly and is naive. The colour gold vibrates faster than the colour green, and encompasses qualities of healing, strengthening, amplifying self-consciousness. It's said to be useful for cardiac problems, and a powerful stimulant to the immune system. It endorses renewed enthusiasm, and is also said to improve libido, especially in women lol.**

***takes a deep breath***

**So the significance of the title is to depict Emily's journey - plus Naomi's hair is blonde, and that's pretty close to gold if you ask me lmao! Thank you for your lovely comment.**

**Utterchaos, I lolled at your review hard haha. Hands off the fic after you take it out to dinner, or i'll have to give you the stern Rob Fitch talk about being respectful. X**

**Phantonfundraiser, Lily looks SMOKING! They NEED to release 'Seven PM' like instantly! xxx**

**anti-aphorism, I'm glad I was able to draw you out and inspire you to comment. What a compliment that was when i read it. Thank you.**

**i-o-u, thank you also for your in-depth comment : ) If you have an account, could you sign in and let me know who you are so I can PM you a little something? **

**emsnaoms, I have very little advice, as I've never really been in your situation. My predicament with my girlfriend being older than me went so smoothly, I wondered what we were doing wrong at the beginning. And then I just relaxed and clicked onto the fact that it's just love, and it's supposed to be easy. : )**

**mUfFMuNcHeR, Yes, Jenna is rather unreasonable isn't she? I wonder why...**

**Sorry about the long note...  
><strong>

**Next chapter then.  
><strong>

Chapter Nine

Phone to her ear, she falls into her swivel chair, and props both feet up on the stool that her thirteen-year-old daughter's just dragged across the living room.

Thea sits curled on the floor next to the stool, ponders the various bottles of nail varnish neatly grouped in front of her, until her hand's hovering over a bottle of glitzy red. She thinks of her mother, smiles lifting it up, mouths, "This one?"

Naomi holds one finger up, mouths back, "One sec," before telling her phone: "Mum, forget your diet; you owe yourself a biscuit."

"Oh? Why's that dear?"

"The mystery flower sender _was _Emily, the girl who's always bringing me coffee. You were right."

Thea glances up at the mention of girl and flowers, slowly unscrews the glitzy red as she gazes her mother curiously.

"...She left her phone at mine, and when I found it, there were the flowers on its screensaver."

Gina chuckles softly into her daughter's ear, "Awww! Did you tell her thank you; can't have people thinking I raised you like a rude little shit now, can I?"

"Well, she was intimidated out of her mind when I asked her about it, so I talked her down, told her the flowers were nice, told her not to stress herself out." – Brings a hand to her mouth, coughs the sudden itch out of her throat – "But," She swallows hard, patting her sternum, "She's an easily shaken little thing – quite sweet actually." She adds, thinking about it. "But yeah, I don't know how much of what I told her went in, to be honest."

"So, no thank you?"

"No!" She half shrieks, somewhat stirred by her mother's persistence. "No thank you. I'm not looking to encourage her into pursuing me. If I said thanks, she'd think I was grateful, and then send me chocolates or something."

Gina scoffs, "Darling, you were walking on air for almost four days after receiving those flowers. You were grateful, if not more."

"Mum," Naomi says, something slightly warning about her tone, "I'm not some desperate, over-the-hill, cougar who grabs onto anyone who shows her the slightest bit of attention. I've changed my mind, no biscuit for you."

"I didn't say you were, and..." Playfully mutters: "I'm still having that biscuit."

Naomi sighs out a long breath, blinks down at her feet, suddenly realizes that half of the nails on her right foot are shimmering with a coat of glitzy red. She frowns at them. "Why red?"

Thea just finishes taking the small brush round the bend of her mother's big toenail, hunches a shoulder as she glances up with a cheeky smile. "It suits you." She then suddenly deadpans, "Now then, no more questions or I'll jack your toes up so you can't wear your sandals."

"You just get sweeter and sweeter as the months go by don't you?"

Thea smiles, bats her eyelashes, and then goes back to the unfinished nail. "Tell Nan hello." She mumbles, lost in concentration.

"Thea says hello, mum."

There's an excited gasp. "Oh, put her on the phone!"

Naomi wiggles the foot that her daughter's working on, hands the phone out, "Mum wants to talk to you."

The thirteen-year-old's jaw drops as she stares at the mess that is now her mother's toe, eventually shrugs. "That was your fault." Takes the phone as Naomi clicks her tongue.

.

.

.

"Right then," Thea says, dips the small brush into its little bottle, "Where were we? – Ah, trying to fix this mess you created earlier."

Naomi wriggles in the swivel chair, clasps her hands comfortably in her lap. "The moving party is always at fault. I was stationary, thank you very much." She looks down when the cold tickle on her small toe's nail stops, finds Thea glaring at her through a smirk. "What?"

"You moved your foot, so technically, you weren't stationary. I watch Judge Judy, mom, I know these things."

Naomi smirks back, opts just to watch her daughter's focused movements with the brush.

A few tranquil moments of silence stroll by, before: "What's all this about a sweet girl and flowers then, mom?"

Sighs contently. "Nothing that concerns you, my muffin."

"My friend came out to me last week."

"Really?"

Thea nods, "Mmm."

"And you soothed and comforted this friend like I raised you to, right?"

"I was going to, but then I thought throwing rocks at her and telling her she's going to hell would be way more fun. So I did that instead." Smirks like the little devil she likes to come across as.

"I think the nail varnish fumes have gone to your head."

* * *

><p>Jenna jabs her finger past her daughter. "I'm taking that computer out of your room. If you want to use it, you can use it downstairs, out in the open. Now move!"<p>

Emily remains in the doorway to her room, not even out of her work clothes yet, blocking her mother from entering. "S-Stop it mum. Stop it! Why're you being such a bitch!"

The moment that word falls from her mouth, the struggle stops, and she experiences a searing, sharp, pain across her cheek.

There's not even time to gasp in shock, it's all happened so quickly, and so the two of them just stand there, Emily holding her cheek, breathless and shaken…

"Now move, Emily!"

Still cupping her face, Emily quietly stands to the side, silent tears disappearing into the carpet. She watches her mother rush into the room and yank wires out of the hard drive, carelessly knocking pens and such off of the desk in the process.

Sniffs repeatedly, manages: "W-What are you doing?"

"Making sure," –Rips another cord loose, almost loses balance –"You don't expose yourself to any filth, that's what – and you're going to quit working at the office, and find a job somewhere else, do I make myself clear?"

Although nodding, Emily snivels: "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I don't want a lesbian for a daughter!" She shouts, tears rushing to the surface of her own eyes. "I found your diary, read _all _about your perverted little crush on Naomi. I was disgusted!"

Emily stands there...mouth agape, before everything she's feeling rushes her small frame, balls in her fists. "And you fucking read it?"

Jenna flinches, thinks it's the loudest she's ever heard her daughter shout. More tears drip to the carpet.

"That's it." Emily slowly shakes her head, shrugs as though everything – all of it – is hopeless. "I've had enough. Fuck you." She blinks soaked eyelashes, snatches her phone from the dresser, and runs downstairs.

The front door's slam rattles through the house's bricks, like a fist rumbling through a fighter's jaw, and Jenna surveys the mess of computer cables around her, closes her teary eyes as tightly as she can.

.

.

.

Anger's never been a common emotion of Emily's; she's always just taken life's kicks with slumped shoulders and sunken cheeks, never one to make a fuss over injustices. Especially those injustices done to her.

This is different.

She's a person too – always has been – only now she knows it. She's a person too, can't suppress that long enough to even consider accepting what her mother's done.

Before she even has a moment to consider how much she doesn't trust herself to be out walking the streets alone at this time of night, her anger has powered her legs all the way up the steps to number eighteen Malbrook Drive. It leaves her there, most of the anger does, as she peers at the front door through watery vision. She crumbles, sits down on the top step, buries her face in her knees, and growls what should've been a groan. "Why did you come here?"

It seems ridiculous to her now, ridiculous that the reality of her situation is that she's sat on Naomi's doorstep, crying...

"She knows." She sniffs, raw red bottom lip wobbling as her tears ruin the pavement. Squeezes her eyes shut, breaks just that little bit more. "She fucking knows...They're all gonna know."

.

.

Naomi pauses on her way to the kitchen, frowns. She then turns to her daughter, nods at the television. "Thea, turn that down a sec please."

_Phil__ Mitchell's_ voice gradually stops booming from the television, until his lips are continuing their motions in silence. "What's the matter?"

Naomi only frowns deeper, walks over towards the porch. "Can you hear that?"

There's some deliberate silence, then: "Sounds like it's coming from outside."

Naomi walks into the porch, spots the hunched silhouette in the lower glass panel of the front door. "What the..." Cautiously slips the chain on the door, unlocks it, slowly pulls it open and peeps through the small gap. She blinks as though she doesn't believe what her eyes are showing her, has to challenge what she's seeing.

"Emily?"

The small girl jolts around, wipes profusely at the water staining her cheeks whilst Naomi unchains the door completely and opens it fully.

Emily stands, quickly dusts herself off, just stands there trembling in her battle with the cold and forthcoming tears, mutters. "She," Sniffs, "She knows…"

Naomi glances the upset girl up and down, notes how utterly broken she looks. Quickly wraps her cardigan tighter around herself, and holds out her embrace. "Come here."

The unexpected gesture fills Emily's tear ducts all over again, and she melts into the other woman's arms, loudly empties those tear ducts on the shoulder of Naomi's cardigan. "I don't k-know w-what to do." She cries, only a little soothed by the gentle hand circling her back.

"You're going to come inside, I'll get you a drink, and then you're going to tell me what's happened."

They both gradually part and Emily nods, barely, eyes turned to the pavement as she follows Naomi inside…

.

.

Thea hears the front door shut, shouts, "Mom, what was all the nois –" Her tongue halts against the roof of her mouth as she watches her mother re-emerge from the porch, a red-eyed petite ruby-haired girl following in behind her.

"Hun, could you give us ten minutes please?" Naomi says, pushing the porch door in.

"Course." Thea responds, jumps up from the floor, offering the red-haired girl a weak smile before disappearing off into another part of the house.

.

.

.

Emily rubs her sleeve covered wrist into her eyes, goes to sit down on the couch.

"Erm, don't sit on that please." Pushes the stool across the laminate floor with the ball of her foot, smiles. "Sit on that."

Emily nods, sits down with a loud sniff, mutters a small. "…Thanks, Naomi. I'm sorry, I, I didn't know your daughter w-would be here, s-since it isn't…Friday."

"Half-term." Naomi offers, handing her a small glass of something dark and strong on the nose. She hooks her hand in the arm of the swivel chair, drags it over towards Emily, and sits in it, softly asks. "What's happened?"

"…My mum," She glances up into the beautiful blue orbs opposite, looks back to the floor, "She knows…"

"Oh." Blinks, sits back in the chair. "Well, I could see how that could be problematic." Grimaces, "What did she say?"

Emily winces as the strong dark liquid warms her throat, lowers the glass from her flustered, quivering, lips, stares into it. "S-She, she called me perverted and…disgusting."

Naomi rolls her eyes, a little disgust entering her own expression, "For one, it's not perverted," She tuts, tallying one of her five fingers off with her other hand, "And secondly, it's not disgusting. Your mom's got really dated values, but once she understands that her having those prejudices isn't going to affect your preference, she'll have to mellow out or she'll end up losing her relationship with you." Shrugs. "It's that simple. But she _does_ love you, so I think you'll end up teaching her a few things in the long run, and with a bit of hope, she'll start to see the world with a little less prejudice."

Emily cups her forehead, disrupts her perfect ruby bangs in doing so, slowly closes her eyes, mumbles, "She knows that…" Opens her eyes, peers through the glass table, "She knows I…" Half-whispers, "Like…you."

"Great, so now I'm going to have to worry about her attacking me or my car at work."

Dejected hazel hues glance up; see the mirth frolicking in the other woman's eyes.

"Well dinner's nearly ready, and I can't keep my daughter upstairs all night, so I'm going to go and call her down, then I'm disappearing into the kitchen." Smiles…

.

.

.

"Emily, this is Thea. Thea, this," She quickly gestures towards the quiet girl on the stool, "Is Emily."

Thea smiles over, even gives a small wave. "So you're Emily."

Naomi puts a hand to her daughter's shoulder, waits for her to look up, then makes to lock the corner of her own mouth with two fingers. "Zip it, and be nice, ok?"

"Mom, when am I ever not nice?"

.

.

.

.

"So, erm…do you have many friends, Thea?" Emily sniffs her red nose, thumbs her ear.

The adolescent leans back on one elbow, tosses her balled up _Wotsits_ packet into the bin, and curls her legs underneath herself, peers up as if to think. "Hmm, well I always say that whichever friend you're with, you should always be able to trust them enough to be able to get drunk around them. I don't have anyone I feel I could do that with – all my mates are jealous of my afro hair." She preens at the bulk of her tight curls, smirking. "So, acquaintances," Nods, "Yes. Friends; a few."

It's Emily's first rich smile since she arrived, decides she already has warmth in her heart for the girl sat in front of her.

Thea suddenly nods towards the kitchen. "You should go and see what she's doing in there – in other words, just go and make sure the meat's cooked this time, so that none of us have to go to hospital."

Emily gasps quietly through a grin, sniffs to clear the residual of her tears. "She's not that bad is she?"

"My mom's a _really_ great woman, but stick a slab of raw meat in front of her and she loses all common sense. She gets a little bit offended if I go in and check on her, thinks I don't trust her or something." Shrugs and rolls her honey bronze eyes. "So it's best if you go in instead – just don't tell her I sent you."

Emily nods, as though she's been given a mission, and she gently pushes herself up from the couch, baby steps towards the kitchen…

"Your daughter, she, s-she thinks really highly of you."

"Yeah?" Naomi pulls open the oven door, backs away from the heat rushing at her in wince. "Why'd she send you in here to check on the cooking then?"

"S-She…didn't. I'm in here because I wanted to say sorry for just t-turning up. At the time I couldn't think of anywhere else I could go…"

"Auntie's, uncle's, cousin's, grandparent's."

"…I'm sorry, Naomi."

"I'm kidding. But just don't hog the blanket in the middle of the night. Not having to contend for the duvet at night is one of the only things I enjoy about being divorced."

Emily frowns. "What do you mean?"

Naomi pokes a fork into the bronzed chicken breast fillets. "Thea's here, so she gets her room. Only other place for you to sleep is in the queen size with yours truly." She lifts her eyes at the bemused girl, suddenly clicks. "Oh shit. Is that going to be a problem for you, or…"

Emily blinks. "What about the couch? I, I can sleep on that if you want."

"The stupid boards beneath the cushions are broken, and you're not suing me for back problems in six months time."

"Oh…"

.

.

.

When Thea pads down the hallway and pokes her head through the bedroom door with a mischievous smirk, Emily gulps, rolling over in Naomi's bed to face the wall.

"Why aren't you in bed yet?"

"Mum, it's half-term." Thea says flatly.

Naomi removes her earring and places it in a draw, closing it with her hip. "Moving on, how about you sleep in here tonight and let Emily have your room?"

Thea glances at the perfectly still lump beneath her mother's duvet, grins so that her dimples show up. "No offence Emily, but I aint having someone else sleep in my bed."

"Thea!" Her mother sends her a look.

The bulk beneath the duvet suddenly sits up, brushes obscuring strands of red from her eyes. "It's fine Thea. I'll erm," Looks at Naomi. "I'll sleep here. It's fine."

"Me and Emily'll just top and tail it then." Naomi makes a point to tell her daughter.

Emily glances between them, tries to make sense of the thirteen-year-old's impish grin, and Naomi's glare.

"Well, night you two." Thea giggles, walking past her mom towards the door. She abruptly stops, glances down at the toenails she painted earlier. "That's definitely your colour." Bounces out of the bedroom.

Naomi pops her head round the door, shouts down the hall. "Actually, get back here young lady! You're rooming with me tonight. Emily's going to have your room!"

"N-No, it, it's fine –"

Naomi turns around, "Emily, I don't think it's appropriate for us to be sharing the same bed, do you?"

"But, I, I shouldn't even be here. Last thing I want to do is kick your daughter," She slings a regretful hand at the door, "Out of her room."

"Well, you're here now. So she's rooming with me, and you're sleeping in her room. I'll just go and get the bedding so I can change the sheets."

With that, Naomi disappears into the hallway, leaves Emily staring into the duvet...

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading.<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**I love that you guys have taken to Thea. I was a little hesitant about creating an original character, fearing that she wouldn't be 3d enough or that she wouldn't be able to hold my interest long enough for me to really develop her. Thank you to every single person who either subscribes, favorites or reviews! I really appreciate it!  
><strong>

**EmZ2009, I may or may not have taken a little direction from you in order to write this chapter. Thanks for your lovely words :)**

**It, I actually can't wait to reveal more of Naomi's past to you, but it all has to unfold in a certain way. As for you being sadfaced about Naomi's reluctance to let go of her marriage, don't be :) Emily's on a journey in this story, and so is Naomi in her own way. Thank you for reviewing.**

**MrsAndMrsCampbell, i was totally aghast when i saw the length of your review. Thank you so much for spending so much time just to tell me your thoughts on this story. It was very flattering, and I hope you continue to read and enjoy..and analyze. : )**

**Skins fan, thank you for trying to fend off Critic's negative comments. That's all the air-time I am giving Critic, so thank you, Skins fan, for your lovely words : )**

**Phantomfundraiser, lol. Your reviews crack me up. lol. I'm glad Emily going to Naomi's house came across as authentic, as I was a little worried that it would seem contrived. Thanks for your input hun ; )**

**smcl, I adored your review. I loved reading the Naomi-Gina-thea interaction back once I'd written it. Made me excited to post it. Thanks for your review :D**

**LoveTheLoveless, I'm glad you weren't disappointed with this fic after your friend recommended it. I hope you continue to enjoy.**

**Miss. maraudeur, your review just blew my mind. I loved it! Thank you : )  
><strong>

****This is a bit of a filler chapter i think guys :/ But I hope you're able to get something from it nevertheless.****

Chapter Ten

She reaches her arm into the linen cupboard, throws once neat bedding to the side, frowns. "Where the fudge is your quilt cover?"

Thea stands beside her, arms folded, a subtle impishness gleaming in the dark pupil of her eye. Finally, she shrugs a shoulder. "Mom, just face it; you can't find it. Now let's all go to bed. Me," She points to her chest, before pointing at her room, "In there, and you," She folds her arms again, "In _your_ room."

Without notice, Naomi drops to her knees, gives the lower shelf the same treatment she gave the top, and even more lines appear in her brow. "It's not in the wash, because I always have one clean set of your bedding in this cupboard, in case anything happens and we have to change the covers."

It's all the thirteen-year-old can do not to start tapping her foot and rolling her eyes…

Finally her mother rises, stands tall peering into the cupboard with a concentrated squint. It slowly lowers, lands on the teenager beside her. "Did you hide the quilt?"

Thea scoffs. "Mother, I wouldn't have had enough time to find the quilt, then hide the quilt, would I?"

Naomi's silent for a second, stealthily lifts one eyebrow, comes back with: "You might've."

"I don't have a reason to hide the quilt – why would I hide the quilt?" Turns to the wall, gestures towards it, asks: "Does anyone know what reason, if any, Thea Richards would have for hiding the quilt?"

"Oi! Pipe down oh Oscar-worthy one, and we both know why you'd hide the quilt." She sighs, closes the cupboard door, frowns down the hall towards her bedroom.

"If you're worried that I may feel a way about you sleeping in the same room as another woman, then you've got nothing to worry about. I've told you; I think it's cool that you like women too. Dad's the one who can't handle it, not me."

"I know, and I know you think it's cool, but I really don't think it's wise for me to be sleeping in the same bed as her, and I don't _**like**_ _anybody_ at the moment, thank you very much." Her chest momentarily puffs as she heaves in a long breath, quickly shakes her head with a sigh and waves her daughter off, "Anyway, I shouldn't even be discussing this with you."

"Discussing what? I just want a good night's sleep in my _own_ bed."

Thea's ploy tugs on something in Naomi's chest, perhaps the heartstring responsible for making her feel like shit about being a part-time mother, perhaps the heartstring that pangs somberly at the fact that she _has _to give her daughter the richest experience she can whenever she stays over, because otherwise it's guilt. Masses of guilt.

She sighs, blinks tiredly. "Go on then, in your room."

Thea beams, squeezes her mom with surprising might; they almost topple over, only catch their balance at the last minute. Both chuckle…

"Night mom. Love you."

Naomi smiles, "I love you too, my muffin. But if I find out you hid that quilt, World War three darling. World War three."

.

.

.

"A-Aren't you, erm…tired Naomi?" Emily husks…

"I'm coming to bed now." Naomi replies, slowly closing her current book, the one she hasn't picked up in over two months. She pulls open a bedside drawer, slips the book inside, and gently elbows the drawer shut again, finally scooting down into more of a horizontal position in the bed.

Backs to one another, there's silence…

"Night Em, and whatever happens when you get home tomorrow – you can always come round afterwards and I'll let you soak my shoulder if necessary."

"Do you really mean that?"

Naomi shifts, turns over to face the smaller girl's back. "When I was in my teens, there was this boy at school – we all knew he was gay. Flamboyant as they come. Trouble is, all the macho pricks always wanted to beat the flamboyance out of him. But basically, to make a story that's going to be long if I don't shorten it, short: He got battered by a group of lads, and the school called his mum in, told her he was gay and that that's what had triggered the altercation –"

"What did she say...?"

"Well...she kicked him out."

"...Oh."

"And he killed himself. It was all in the local newspaper, little photograph of him next to the article."

"Naomi," – Emily swallows a frog – "This, hearing this isn't making me feel any better..."

Naomi chuckles quietly, watches Emily's pillow line when the smaller girl moves to brush some hair from her face. "The meat and potatoes of that story is that I didn't like what happened to Collin, and I never want to see it happen again. If it means I've got to suffer a wet shoulder every now and then, so be it."

"...Thank you. I don't know what I, what I would've done tonight if it wasn't for you..." She lets that hang between them for a moment, then: "Thank you."

The older woman rolls back over, pulls the duvet further up around her shoulders, lets her heavy eyelids fall. Sighs. "Yeah, well, if you ever do decide to take me up on that offer, just let me know when you're coming, so I can change into one of my crappy shirts."

They both know she's kidding, but something tells Emily to push it. "Erm...I, I don't have any way to get in contact with you."

Naomi smirks, slowly opens her eyes before letting them fall again. "Are you asking me for my number, Emily?" Thinks, _If__ she's __pushing__ it, __I__ might__ as__ well__ push__ it__ too._

"N-No, no...erm..." Winces before she mutters, "Yes."

Naomi adjusts her head, snuggles into the thick quilt, "I'll give it to you in the morning. Night."

Despite all of the shit she's knows she's going to have to endure when she goes home, Emily smiles into the soft, sweet-smelling, fabric of the pillow. "Goodnight Naomi."

* * *

><p><em>The<em>_ morning __sun__'__s __doing__ fuck__ all__ to __wash __away __last __night__'__s __shadows_, Katie thinks as she approaches her front door, and hears back and forth shouting trickling out of the open kitchen window. Her shoulders slump whilst she sorts the right key, sighs as she lets herself in.

James is sat on the bottom step of the stairs, all grayed-out in his school uniform. He stares at his big sister forlornly, offering no words on the racket going on the room with the oven in it.

"They're still arguing." She says, mostly due to disbelief.

"They've been shouting at each other since they woke up. Emily's not back yet either. Do you think it's true? Do you think she's really a lesbo?"

Katie looks towards the skirting board, absently rubs her collarbone and tries not to think about it, managed to block it all out last night when she was over at Danny's. Why's it so fucking difficult now? Probably because she doesn't have his eight-incher drilling between her thighs. She stands there, wonders how any girl in their right mind could choose fanny over that.

She shakes her stupor of thoughts, convinces herself aloud, "Emily can't be gay. We're twins."

There's a jarring crash just then, prompts Katie into the kitchen as fast as her legs will power. Her eyes instantly find her teary mother down on the floor by the back door, sweeping up shards of a broken plate. She looks to her father, who looks like he's been camping for two months, with no shaver, no comb, no shower, and no change of clothes. Feels her own eyes begin to sting.

"You have to stop arguing now, seriously."

"Katie!" Rob warns, something macabre about his gaze, "Stay out of this, right?"

"Mum..." She leaves a fading trail of the word as she realizes that neither her mother or father are going to talk to her about it.

"I'm gonna go and get ready for work." Rob sighs, "And when I get home," He tells his crouching wife, "Emily better be upstairs and safe, like normal!" He brushes past his daughter, stomps past his son up the stairs...

Jenna brushes the last few crumbs of the broken plate into the dustpan, finally stands. She carries it across the room, rests her foot on the bin's lever and empties the rubbish inside. She then sniffs, looks at Katie. "I've phoned your sister countless times. She's not picking up. Have you tried her?"

"Did dad throw that plate at you?"

"Just answer my question please Katie."

Doing what her mother's asking is the furthest thing from Katie's mind, as her face and fists screw tight. "If he threw that plate at you, watch me fuck him up!"

"Katie!" Jenna raises her voice. She then wearily closes her reddened eyes, slowly opens them again, leans against the work surface for support. "He didn't throw the plate. I did. Now, have you managed to get a hold of Emily?"

Her daughter lowers regretful doe eyes, barely shakes her head, "No." Soon after, she looks up, asks. "What was all that last night about Emily being...gay?"

The sigh that expels from Jenna almost seems like it's drawing the last ounce of life out of her. "I found her diary..."

"And you read it?" The older twin shrieks. "Mum, how could you do that? Thank God I don't keep one, if that's how you're gonna carry on."

It's the first time she's ever seen her mother look ashamed after being admonished by one of her children.

"Well, I read it, and now we know that you have a gay sister, and that I've got a les –" The word gets stuck, but through the hand cupping her face, she somehow manages to push it out with a long weary sigh. "I've got a lesbian for a daughter."

* * *

><p>They wake in exactly the same positions they fell asleep in, powerful streams of light cutting in through the semi-closed blinds and sneaking over the quilt in strange patterns.<p>

"...Morning."

Naomi runs a hand through her kinked blonde strands, ruffles it, yawns one of those wide lengthy yawns that takes over the entire face, eventually says, "Morning. Do you want breakfast, or..."

"...Too nervous to eat. The anticipation of g-going home, it's erm, it's taken my appetite."

"Oh." Naomi smiles at the other girl somewhat sympathetically, "Well, me, my mum, and Thea are popping into town for a look-round later –"

"I-I'll be gone by then." Emily rushes to sit up, rubs the heels of her hand into her eye. " I promise."

Naomi smirks, follows the sun's patterns on the duvet with a finger. "Why are you getting all jumpy? I didn't say you had to be gone by then."

The quilt mountains with Emily's knees as she draws them to her chin, an unforgiving blush moving through her cheeks. "I just get a little...a little nervous sometimes." Laxly shrugs a shoulder.

"Well you can come with us if you want, and then I'll take you home, where I'm sure _both_ of your parents are worried sick about you."

Knees still tucked into her chin, Emily nods, though her heart starts up when she begins to consider all of the different ways she'll probably make an embarrassment of herself whilst in town with Naomi and her family. "Shit." She mutters. Nobody else hears it but her.

When Naomi throws the covers back, reveals her perfect long legs, Emily's powerless to do anything but stare up and down them out of the corner of her eye. It's then that she remembers last night's promise. "...Naomi?"

Both soles of the tall woman's feet hit the floor. "Yes?"

"Can I erm..." Rubs her shoulder down to her wrist and glances through the blinds. "Can I still get your, your number?"

Naomi eases up off of the bed until she's standing, turns around, extends her arm out across the bed. "Pass your phone then."

Emily looks over her right shoulder, collects her IPhone from the chest of drawers next to her side of the bed, carefully underhand's it at the woman yawning and stretching on the other side of the room.

It smacks Naomi's cupped hands square in the center of her palms. She quickly turns the device right side up, peers the new screensaver in with a smirk that says she's slightly tickled, before she presses in her mobile number and opts to save it to the phonebook. It lands on the bed with a soft thud when she's done. "Right," She says, smiling morning warmth at the girl sat in her bed, "Breakfast."

* * *

><p>Her thumb hovers over the send button as she squints her phone's screen, begins to tap her foot, wonders whether she actually wants to take things to this level. The text is written; all she has to do is send it.<p>

_Next time I see you, I'm putting you in a hospital bed for whatever it is that you've done to my daughter!_

She knows police could be called into this if she sends the message, because it's a threat of bodily harm. But images of _her _touching Emily, making lusty eyes at Emily, kissing Emily; they're a direct catalyst for the way that Jenna's hand then suddenly clenches around the kitchen notebook's pencil, leaving it in two pieces when she releases it.

"Everything else is in pieces. Why not make pieces of Naomi's face?" She spits under her breath, punches in another sentence or two on the end of the message.

_Next time I see you, I'm putting you in a hospital bed for whatever it is that you've done to my daughter! Go to the police if you want, but nobody is going to be able to help you by the time I'm done._

She finally presses the send button, and lays the phone face-down on the work surface, stares off into thin air whilst her teeth quietly churn in her mouth.

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading.<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello again guys! :D  
><strong>

**LoveNaomily,** **your review made me laugh. Glad to know that you're so invested in this. Thank you :)  
><strong>

**Miss. maraudeur, you've set the record for longest review. I actually got a cup of tea to sit down and read it lol. That's lame right? hahaha. Thank you so much for taking a slice out of your day to write all of that and tell me your insights. You were spot on in almost everything you wrote. You're not the world's shittest reviewer at _all_! Far from it (who's licking arse now :P) It was nice to read what you wrote and know that I am doing my job correctly with how i'm writing this story. XXX**

**utterchaos, your review was another one I really indulged in. Just like Miss. maraudeur, you hit the nail on the head in everything that you wrote! You laid out everything beautifully, so that I could breathe easy about the fact that this story is coming across the way I intend. Thank you :)**

**It, Yes, I always thought that despite her meek demeanor, Emily was really ballsy in the show, especially where things concerned Naomi. It's only fair to dip into that part of Emily's character a little in this :) Thank you.  
><strong>

**mUfFMuNcHeR, Hmm, i always find myself wondering where Thea got her sarcastic attitude from...Still can't work it out :P Glad you laughed at the whole quilt episode. I chuckled a bit as it came to me and as I wrote it.**

**phantomfundraiser, Hey : ) Thanks for trying to fend off yet another of 'Critic's' ridiculous comments. But I wouldn't waste your time. I'm enjoying writing this way too much to take notice of what she/he has to say. Plus, I suspect it's just trolling. *shrugs* XXX  
><strong>

Chapter Eleven

Gina discreetly nudges her daughter as they walk, the bags of shopping in her slightly aged hand gently swaying. "She's pretty."

Naomi quickly looks over her shoulder at the red-haired girl following close behind, frowns at her mother with a quiet click of the tongue. "She's right there, mum."

"Doesn't change the fact that she's pretty and stares at you like you're the only drop of water in the dessert now, does it?"

Rolls her eyes, walks ahead...

.

.

.

Thea strolls from one end of the shop to the other in the shoes, pleads: "See mom? I can walk in them just fine." She looks down at her feet, noting how grown-up and feminine the shoes make her feel, smiles. "They're fab!"

Naomi crouches at her daughter's feet, presses the toe space of one of the shoes. "Hmm." Peers up into hopeful honey bronze eyes. "Are you sure your toes have got enough breathing room in there?"

"Yes."

"And you don't think they're a little bit racy for a girl of your age?"

"No – Emily, please tell her they're not racy."

All concerned eyes find Emily.

She finally brings her hand to her porcelain throat, swallows carefully, the discomfort that someone may see her swallowing and comment negatively on it all becoming too much.

Both Naomi and Thea blink up at her.

"Are you alright Emily?"

"Erm..."

"Yeah, she's fine. Just has a lot on at the moment." Naomi tells her concerned daughter, taps the shoes in question. "Now take them off and I'll get the woman to price them up."

"...I'm sorry." Emily mutters, watching Thea bounce off towards the other side of the shop to show her Nan the shoes before she has to take them off.

"We all have our crappy days. You don't have to be sorry."

"Well..." Tucks some of her shimmering ruby hair behind an ear. "I thought the shoes were nice..."

"Not too racy then? I don't think I could handle becoming a granny before forty."

Emily stands there and smirks, before quietly muttering: "You already dress like one with," Glances up into incredulous, mirth-filled, blue eyes. "With all those...wool cardigans you wear."

Naomi chuckles gently, smiles discreetly at a passing guy staring at her through the shop window, says. "Fuck you."

.

.

.

"See anything you like, Emily?"

_Your __amazing__ daughter_, is the first thing to echo out in Emily's mind, as she hugs her midriff, glances around the shop. "Erm, n-no. Not, erm, not really Gina."

The older Campbell smoothes down the back of her hair, continues to glance the clothes surrounding them. "Yes, I suppose the clothes in here," Frowns, pulling on the hem of a terribly stitched shirt. "Are a bit naff, aren't they?"

Shrugs, looks to the cheaply tiled shop floor. "...They're ok."

"Well I suppose you're right; clothes look different on the hanger than they do when you've actually got them on, don't they? I mean, this," She gestures around. "Isn't usually Naomi's kind of shop but she's trying something different, something new, and well," Shrugs with a large smile, "She's already purchased two pairs of trousers, and trying on a third."

Emily looks up into Gina's warm orbs, knows she's about to make an embarrassment of herself, but something tells her it's ok. It's ok with Gina. "I think...I-I think your daughter's amazing. She could shop in the gutters of London, and, and she'd still be...a-amazing."

"Well, Christ, don't tell her that; she'd have a head the size of a spaceship."

And it is; it's ok with Gina, just like it's ok with Pandora...

Thea's first out of the changing room, gives a silly twirl, asks, "Like them?"

Her Nan pulls at the waist of the jeans. "Sweetheart, how are you supposed to breath in them?"

"Breathing's overrated. Ask Amy Winehouse." Turns to face Emily, eyebrows raised.

Emily stares at the thirteen-year-old, can't quite believe how beautiful she is, then quickly remembers that Naomi gave birth to her and that beauty was always going to be a given, no matter the father. She doesn't look much like Naomi, but beautiful, nevertheless.

"...They look, erm, really nice." Hunches forward slightly as a woman and her kids squeeze past behind her.

"See Nan," Thea smirks, "You need to start taking lessons from Emily here – where's mum?" Looks around.

The next voice comes out from the top of the far cubicle in the changing rooms, slightly muffled and struggling: "Still trying to get into these jeans, though I think it's hopeless. I can't wait for the jog-a-thon, lose some off of these annoying thighs."

Slightly breathless, she finally manages to kick out of the last jean-leg, a split second of pins and needles spraying throughout her forearm as she accidentally knocks her elbow on the cubicle door. "Fuck off." She tuts, bends to collect her blackberry off of the floor where it's fallen from her bag.

"Language dear!" Gina calls, just slipping her hands away from her granddaughter's ears.

Naomi surveys her phone for any damage, presses a few buttons just to be on the safe side, frowns as she clues onto the number on her screen. She opens up the message, reads the four lines, blinks at the wall opposite as the venom behind the words really begin to soak in.

"Mum, there's an ice-cream stand just outside. Can I have a toffee fudge please?"

"Just a second hun. I'll be out in a minute." Naomi quickly buttons her jeans up, pulls her bag up on her shoulder, and walks out of the cubicle, handing a nearby member of staff the jeans that wouldn't surpass her thighs.

Gina shakes her head at her approaching daughter. "No joy?"

"Mum, would you mind having Thea for a bit when I drop Emily off? There's something I need to take care of."

"Course I'll have her, dear. But what's up; you've come out of that cubicle with a face as sour as a fresh lemon?"

"I'm fine." Smiles around at the three worried faces in front of her, walks on ahead. "Now let me just pay for your jeans, young lady, and then we're off to get ice-cream, yeah?"

* * *

><p>They've been sat, parked outside of the Fitch household for seventeen minutes, Naomi patiently waiting, and Emily doing everything she can to keep last night's chicken down.<p>

"I don't even know why...I don't know why I'm so scared. Shouldn't even care what she thinks, but...I'm gonna have to deal with what dad, Katie and James think too."

Naomi taps the steering wheel, looks to the girl breathing deliberate breaths in the passenger seat. "Is your dad home or," – Quickly shakes her head – "Is he at work?"

Shrugs. "I don't know...He's supposed to be at work."

"I'm coming in with you."

Emily's breathing stilts. She stops tapping her foot, stares at the blonde woman. "...W-Why?"

"There's something I want to discuss with your mum."

Brushes her ruby fringe out of her eye, blinks a few times. "What?"

Naomi continues to tap the steering wheel, considers whether telling Emily of her mother's juvenile antics is wise or not, concludes that the information will help the twenty-year-old to swap some of her need for her mother's approval in exchange for the power that comes with the moral high ground.

She sighs, lets her hands fall from the steering wheel to her lap. "She sent me a text today, threatening to put me in hospital. I received it when we were in town."

Emily's trembling instantly quells. She frowns. "She what?"

"To be honest," Naomi says, smoothing down one of the knees of her skinny jeans, "I'm really surprised that she still has my number. Surely she would have erased it by now; we stopped being amicable months ago."

They both stare at one another, both acknowledging their mutual speculation as to why Jenna would still have Naomi's number, neither wanting to say anything out loud...

"She's out of fucking order is what she is. Never knows when to stop." Emily mumbles, eyes now narrowed at her house. "Come on then...lets, lets go." She heaves a brief breath in with rising shoulders, sighs. "I'm gay and...they're all just gonna have to deal with it."

She doesn't feel Naomi smiling at her, too busy glaring at her house, but Naomi _is_ smiling at her...

"Come on then, Em."

.

.

Katie cautiously eyes the two fuzzy outlines in the glass, eventually twists the key in its lock, and pulls open the front door.

She doesn't even acknowledge the tall, blue-eyed, woman standing beside her sister, just stares directly into her twins face, asks: "Is it true?"

Emily looks at Naomi, then back at her sister, nods. "I'm..." Breathes steady. "I'm gay, Katie."

Katie blinks, briefly looks to the ground and blinks, before facing her sister again. She throws Naomi a look of sheer distaste, and it's almost as if she's only just noticed her. "And what the fuck are you doing here? You better not be fucking my sister, mum's told me everything."

Naomi steps forward, smiles even if its just to get under the older twin's skin. "That's exactly why I'm here; to set a few things straight. Where's your mum?"

As if on cue, Jenna emerges from the kitchen, basket full of clothes tucked under her arm. The basket immediately slips from her clutches, slamming to the floor the moment her eyes meet steely brown and cerulean blue. She puts two and two together, comes up with everything but four. Her jaw tightens, face becoming hard. "Is that where you ran off to last night, Emily, huh? To _be_ with _her_?" She mocks, smirks, slowly runs her eyes down her youngest daughter. "She only wants one thing from you, and then she's going to elbow you out of the picture. That what you want? Huh?"

Naomi frowns to herself deeply, quickly shakes her head. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

"Is that what you want, Emily? Huh?" Jenna continues on. "For her to use you and then move onto the next?"

"I'm not...talking to you after what you did last night." Her daughter husks through barely parting lips, presses a few fingers to her cheek. Still sore.

"Actually _Jenna_, nothing is going on between me and Emily, except for in your head." Naomi interjects, clutching her car keys harder than what is comfortable for the flesh of her palm. "And I really don't appreciate you," She jabs the biggest key on the chain in Jenna's direction. "Sending me messages promising to put me in hospital, when I'm out enjoying time with my family. We need to sort something else out, fast, because this arrangement's not working for me."

Emily narrows a dark gaze at her mother. "T-That was really out of fucking order too, mu–"

"Why don't you be quiet, KD Lang! I thought you weren't talking to me."

Katie's got no idea who KD Lang is, but she knows her mother is attacking her sister's homosexuality, can just feel it. "Mum..." She softly interrupts, slowly shaking her head at her mother as she touches her tense forearm. "Stop..."

Jenna glances around her, notes the utter disgust in the faces surrounding her, feels like they're all against her. She attempts to pull out her ace: "Sorry Emily, but I only want what's best for you, and –"

"What?" Naomi shrugs. "A woman isn't what's best for her?"

Jenna's fists coil as she puts one angry foot forward. "No! A woman isn't, especially you! Let me find out that you've touched my Emily in any way, and I will tear your face off!"

Naomi casually glances out at her car, rolls her eyes back over towards Jenna and sighs. "Well, you also said you'd put me in a hospital bed the next time you saw me, and look," She makes a show of moving the joints to her limbs. "I'm still in one piece." She then groans, rolls her eyes again. "Look, I'm not scared of you Jenna, alright? I can and will do what I want where Emily's concerned, because we're both adults, and there's really fuck all you can do about it." Shrugs.

Nobody sees it coming; everybody just sees Naomi crumble in the doorway, nose cupped in hand as she breathes ragged breaths and blinks profusely, glaring up at the older twin.

"Katie!" Emily shrieks, viciously shoves her twin back, and drops to her knees beside the woman who's done nothing but comfort and take care of her over the past day or two. "Shit." She flails, not knowing what to do with her hands. "A-Are you alright?" She hastens her panicked hazel hues over Naomi's face, glares up at Katie. "What the fuck? She's the _only _one who's been there for me throughout all of this. The _only _one!"

Katie shakes her wrist off, soreness already setting in, manages to jab a finger down in Naomi's direction. "Don't fucking talk to my mum like that. Got it?"

Jenna stands there, peering down at the fallen blonde woman, triumphant. "There's more where that came from, I can promise you that."

Naomi carefully draws her hand away from her nose, sees no blood, tucks her ruffled fringe behind her ear, and gradually stands with some assistance from Emily, keeping an eye on Katie the entire time. "Don't ever touch me again." She says, almost eerily calm, as she narrows her eyes at the maroon-haired twin.

A moment of ambivalence passes, before Naomi extends her palm out in Emily's direction, nods towards her car. "You coming?"

A capsule of water rolls from one of Emily's eyes, slides to the end of her quivering chin as she stares at her sister and mother. She then slowly turns around, and takes the hand out on offer.

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading.<strong>

**ps: I thought Amy Winehouse was cool.  
><strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello everyone. Back again. I want to quickly thank everyone massively for their comments, as It's late and I'm tired as a motherlicker! Sorry for any potential typos.  
><strong>

Chapter Twelve

Thea suddenly jumps up from the stool in excited cheer, the tall glass of milk stood by her foot momentarily rocking before toppling over. Her smile quickly fades, mouth hanging open, as she gazes down at the white liquid swimming the tiny gaps between the laminate floor boards.

…Slowly looks towards her mother, grimaces and hunches her tiny shoulders, whispers, "Sorry."

Naomi lowers the frozen pack of peas from the bridge of her nose with a long aggravated sigh, blinks the mess in, then slams the ice-cold pack down on the glass table, much to Emily, the table, and her daughter's flinch. "Jesus, Thea! Didn't I tell you not to put that drink there? For God sake!" Tuts loudly. "I told you five times!"

"I'm sorry, I forgot it was there, and –"

"Don't just stand there gawking at it! Clean it up!" Naomi roars, flames and pitchforks flickering in her pupils.

Thea legs it into the kitchen, quickly re-emerges with a few sheets of kitchen roll, pouts whilst slapping her feet back over towards the mess. She carefully drops to her knees, begins to wipe at the white puddle, mumbles, "I'm really sorry mom."

Naomi stands up from the swivel chair, ties the strings to her cardigan tight around her waist and sighs. She then gestures at the closed curtains. "I'm going out the front." Slips into her slippers, and disappears into the porch...

Thea looks up at the television, glares at her favorite X-Factor singer celebrating making it through to the semi-finals, groans: "That was your damn fault."

Emily rubs the base of her neck, quietly husks, "Erm...you ok, Thea?"

The younger girl nods, though frowning. "I just..." Shakes her head and rolls her eyes as though she's concluded that she's just being a baby, "I hate it when she shouts at me, that's all. I'll be fine once she comes back in and I've gotten a hug from her." Dabs the milk spatter, absently mutters to herself: "And if she actually thinks I believe that she walked into a lamppost, I'm insulted."

Emily carefully scoots off of the other stool, floor-shuffles towards the thirteen-year-old. She puts a hand to the smaller girl's back for a moment, picks up a spare sheet of paper roll and begins to help mop up the milk...

Thea pauses her movements, looks to her side, smiles gratefully at the ruby-haired girl.

Emily halts her movements too, smiles back.

.

.

She drops the lighter into the mouth of her cardigan's pocket, folds her arms and blows out a long mist of smoke, closes her eyes briefly, sighs, before quickly taking the cigarette between her lips again.

As she hears the front door opening behind her, she releases another cloud of tobacco, quickly flicks several burning embers off the end of the fag, says, "I'll be inside in a minute."

"It's...it's me. A-Are you ok, Naomi?"

Looks up at the dark sky, sighs long and wearily at it. "No, Emily. I'm not ok. I don't like being smacked around." Flicks a little more off of the burning fag, leans to the side to dodge one of the small embers that the wind's blown back at her. "Close the damn door in; I don't want the smoke inside whilst Thea's here."

"Sorry…" She gently pulls the door in, steps out and shuffles to Naomi's side, hugs herself against the unforgiving breeze, amongst other things, whilst gazing the pavement.

There's a moment where it's just the loud rustling from the bushes shoving one another...

Her fist clenches by her side the more she ponders the way she dropped in the Fitch doorway, so she flexes the fingers of it, attempts to swallow down feelings of embarrassment, just ends up expelling a quiet, frustrated, growl. "I actually feel like driving all the way back over there and putting your sister through a wall."

Emily hesitantly looks up, notes the slight tremble to the older woman's hand as she lifts the cigarette to and from her subtly churning pout. Reaches her own hand out, stills Naomi's tremble, then drops her hand back to her side, mutters, "I'll...go if you want me to. I, I didn't want to create all of these..." Tucks wind-blown strands of ruby behind her pale ear, hugs herself just that little bit tighter, "All of these problems for you."

"No." Tuts, draws lengthily on the dwindled cigarette, the smoke rushing to the back of her throat temporarily doing something funny to the ways she speaks: "I offered you another night here because the environment at your's is fucking," – Puffs the cloud from her lips, voice returning to normal – "Toxic."

Emily nods, albeit barely, stares out into the darkness beyond the bushes at the bottom of the garden.

"I'm telling you this now, Em, I'm not one for violence, but your sister better stay away from me in future, otherwise I won't be held accountable for the carnage that ensues."

She runs five pale, dainty, fingers through her slightly kinked feather-soft red hair, so badly wants to reach up onto her tiptoes and spoil Naomi's nose with thousands of soft, slightly clumsy, kisses until everything's better, knows she hasn't the guts. Knows it won't make anything better. Sighs, settles for: "I'm...truly s-sorry about them. Katie; she's a c-complete bitch when she wants to be, was always hitting me when we were," Clears her throat, steps a little closer to the tall woman stood beside her, "When we were growing up. She pushed me off the top bunk once, when we were nine, and I…" Lifts her left hand and peers at its middle finger, slowly wiggles it, "I broke my finger."

Naomi frowns, smoke floating out from her slackened jaw. "And what, you just..." Shrugs a shoulder, "Put up with that bullshit?"

"...I suppose." She fingers two of the lines in her palm, stares at them. "Naomi, why...why are you doing this for me?"

"Doesn't look like anybody else is going to do it, does it Emily?" Presses the fag butt to the wall beneath the window, and heads back inside.

.

.

.

She's just zipped up her trousers when her pocket begins to buzz. Her two fingers press the chrome button in the toilet's tank, linger on it as she watches water heave up and swill loudly around the bowl, frowns wondering whose name is flashing on her phone's screen.

She finally takes it out of her pocket, stares at the display, mutters. "Shit."

A short few seconds later she sucks in a lungful of air, thumbs the green button and slowly brings the device to her ear. "...H-Hello, dad?"

"How are you love? You alright?"

"I-I'm fine..." She says, glances into the long wall mirror, notes the kinks in her usually perfect hair, the bags starting to darken beneath her eyes, repeats: "I'm...fine."

"Well I want you to know that I'm your dad right, and that I love you all the way around the world fifty times and back, right? I don't give a stuff if you're gay, or any of that. Long as you're happy; that's the main thing. You know that."

She does, but hearing so doesn't half ease the knots in her chest. She's not being made to feel like she's a pervert or disgusting, or like she's any less of a Fitch. Nothing like that, just love. Unconditional love, something that her father's always provided her with.

"Look, if you tell me where you are I'll come and pick you up, eh love?

The love-tinted glasses instantly fall crooked and crash to the floor as she fervently shakes her head. "N-No! I can't. I can't deal with mum." Closes her eyes, sighs. "I can't."

A few moments of silence pass...

"Well, tell me Naomi's address then, and I'll drop by with some clean clothes, your toothbrush, and a towel and all that, eh?"

The panic eases out of Emily's expression, flickers of warmth floating in. "Thanks dad." Blinks away building tears, choppily chokes out, "I love you."

"I love you too darlin', and don't get upset eh? Everythin's gonna be alright." Sighs wearily. "Now give me the address and I'll just put my shoes on..."

After ending the call, Emily sniffs and rubs her nose, slips her phone back into her pocket, and then washes her hands.

She steps out into the hallway, gently pulls the bathroom door in with a quiet sniff, watches Thea and her mother just pulling out of a hug, smiles, even if vaguely.

As if sensing the hazel hues watching her, Thea turns around, vigorously waves her mother's red-haired friend over with a grin. "Come on Emily, we're all playing scrabble. I win and you all owe me a tenner." Scurries off towards the cabinet stocked full of catalogues and board games.

Emily sits on the stool next to the swivel chair that Naomi's sat in, dry-bathes her face in both of her palms and sighs, dropping them back to her lap again.

Naomi stares at her for a long moment, mouth churning with unsaid apologies. She then rolls her eyes, just says it. "I was a bit of a prick outside earli–"

"Mum, where is it?" The thirteen-year-old suddenly calls over her shoulder, turns back to rummage a little more. She eventually huffs a defeated sigh, looks between her mother and Emily."Do you guys fancy a game of downfall instead, 'cause I can't find Scrabble?"

Naomi clicks her tongue, points. "Thea, I can see it from here, by the Grattan's catalogue."

Emily sniffs away the last of her residual tears. "My erm, my dad's coming by to drop me a change of clothes off, and a towel and...stuff."

Naomi suddenly pauses, her pointing finger falling as she looks at the worn-out twenty-year-old. "What, he's coming here now?"

Emily nods, still hasn't looked up from the floor. "I, I would've asked you, but...he erm, he phoned when I was in the bathroom, and I could really do with a change of clothes and a shower, if that's alrigh–"

"It's fine, Emily." Leans forward to grab the bag of frozen peas from the bowl on the glass table, takes the bag to her nose, winces as the ice bites her skin.

.

.

.

He wraps his knuckles on the door three times, stands back, glances the size of the house and the garden.

Suddenly there's the vague sound of movement; the porch light flickers on, and the door handle twists down...

He runs studying eyes down her tall frame and back up again, only remembers his purpose for being there when the wind kicks up and the duffel bag in his hand begins to sway. "So, you're Naomi then?"

"Look, Rob..." Folds her arms, mouth halted around all those words that haven't quite come to her yet.

"Where's my daughter?" He asks.

Naomi eyes him, from his thick head of hair and budding stubble to his dirty boots, can't quiet discern his temperament, sighs and nods behind. "She's just using the bathroom."

"I'll wait for her then…"

"Rob," Naomi says softly. "It's not always easy to see loved ones when you've just come out to them – or rather it's not easy to have them see you. Having them look at you and _know_, well, it can be a little intimidating that there's this gigantic magnifying glass on something that they're already scared and unsure about. It can be intimidating for some to know that their loved ones have gone back and forth in their heads about stuff like sex and the fact that potential grandkids aren't going to be conceived the conventional way."

Rob watches a cloud of his breath mist from his mouth, watches it float into another dimension as everything the tall woman's just told him sinks in. "So she's in there hiding from me?"

"It's not that she doesn't want to see you. She's just…" Tuts somewhat sadly, shrugs laxly. "Sorting some stuff out in her head."

He peers over Naomi's shoulder into the house, then looks directly at her. "I don't know what your intentions are with my daughter, and maybe that's a bit careless of me, but, I just know that she needs to be somewhere that isn't home tonight –"

"Rob, I've got my thirteen-year-old daughter in there; I'm not about to jump Emily's bones, alright? There's nothing going on. It's purely platonic. I saw how your wife is dealing with having a gay daughter today, and I just..." Shrugs, briefly frowns at the pavement. "I got Emily out of there. That's the only reason she's staying over."

"Yeah, well speaking of my wife," He thrusts the duffel bag in Naomi's direction, "I'd like to have a word when all this," He nods into the house, "Blows over."

Naomi takes the handles of the bag, watches the husky man's back as he jogs down her steps, and gets into his car.

"Great." She mutters into the night air, heads back inside.

.

.

.

.

Naomi flicks the lamp out and slides in under the duvet. She moves her head about the pillow, stilling when she finds that comfy spot. "Sorry about being a cunt outside earlier."

"…It's ok."

"Why do you always do that?"

Emily knows exactly what Naomi is referring to, asks herself the very question all the time. The best she ever comes up with is: "What else can I do?"

"You let people know when they've done you wrong, and that your relationship with them is now tenuous until further notice, because of their actions."

"I…" Shrugs. "I just want people to be happy, to get along. It's easier that way."

"Is it?" Naomi shifts her head again. "I mean I understand what you're saying, but you've got to factor your own feelings into the equation too. You shouldn't always come last."

"...Why are you doing this for me, Naomi?" She quietly repeats her question from earlier. "Why are you being so nice, t-to me?"

"You're a sweet girl, generous and kind, from what I've seen. It's hard coming out when you've got nobody and no one in your family is really on your wavelength. I was lucky; my mum was fine with me bringing home the occasional girl. But not everyone is as fortunate – and I'm _always_ nice, just to set that straight."

Emily's lips quirk up a little. "I was terrified of you when I f-first met you…Terrified"

"You mean I don't put the willies up you anymore? I'm going to have to see what I can do to remedy that."

"No," Emily whispers. "You're…" Smiles as she pictures one of Naomi's cute little interactions with her daughter, can't even begin to imagine how the older woman spends her time when Thea's not around. "You're lovely." Continues to smile, runs her fingers over the soft sweet-scented pillow beneath her head. "So, no...You don't put the willies up me anymore."

"Drat!"

"You…" Emily's smile fades slightly, a seriousness settling into her tone. "You make me feel safe and, and…warm."

Naomi blinks her heavy eyelids slowly, slips her hand beneath her shirt and rubs an itch on her lower stomach. "Emily?"

"Hmm?"

"You're probably going to meet some gorgeous, sophisticated, twenty-two-year-old or whatever soon. She'll make you feel safe and warm, and a whole bunch of other fantastical things."

"But I..." She considers not saying it, decides she needs to, winces as it just comes out, however quiet. "I don't want some gorgeous, sophisticated, twenty-two-year-old…"

Naomi immediately scoffs. "What, so you'd rather a grumpy, broken-down, almost thirty-three-year-old instead?"

"I, I don't know any grumpy, broken-down, almost thirty-three-year-olds."

"Really? I'm pretty sure there's one lying right next to you."

"Where? I can't see her..."

"Emily, I'm serious."

The ruby-haired girl's playfulness dwindles to nothing but a flicker, and she runs to the safety of: "…Sorry."

"Unless you spill hot coffee in my lap again, I don't want to hear you say sorry. You're banned from using it. Sorry is no longer a word where Emily Fitch is concerned."

There's a few beats of atmospheric silence, then: "I f-feel like, like you're angry at me."

"Well, if I was, you saying sorry wouldn't stop me from feeling that way."

"Are you?" Emily mumbles, fingers a still damp strand of hair out of her line of sight. "A-Angry at me, I mean?"

"I'm not angry, just grumpy. Grumpy and almost thirty-three."

Whispers, "Well as long as you're not angry." Gently pulls more of the duvet over to her side, snuggles into it, blinks at the white wall in front.

"I just need some sleep." Pulls the duvet back over to her side, feels the petite body beside her jerk a little, smirks subtly. "I'll be fine tomorrow, and if I'm not, God help those delivery men when they bring the new sofa suite."

"...Goodnight then, Naomi, and thanks for erm, going out to deal with my dad."

"It's fine. Night."

After some time, Emily whispers, "Sweet dreams," and then closes her eyes on the two hours left in the day.

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading.<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks for all of the comments guys! MrsAndMrsCampbell, you are a STAR! lol thank you****! Not entirely happy with this chapter, but I hope it works for you anyway.  
><strong>

Chapter Thirteen

"Soo..." Gina drawls, face in partial wince. "Don't be upset, but..."

Naomi lowers the biscuit from her lips, chuckles, "What?"

Gina slaps the kitchen table, quickly rushes out, "I sold your wedding ring," recoils back, knuckles at her lips.

The biscuit falls from Naomi's fingers, hits the table , creating little colonies of crumbs on the wooden surface. She dips her head slightly, narrows her cerulean orbs across the table at her mother. "I _seriously _hope you're shitting me..."

"Well," She drops the wince. "You've got Emily now, and it's not like you couldn't do with the money now, is it?"

Frowns, shoves the cup of lukewarm coffee away. "Emily's just a fucking friend! I'm sick of telling people that!" Snaps her fingers, loudly. "Produce my wedding ring, like," Taps her palm against the table twice. "Right now."

The older Campbell reaches into a nearby drawer. "Well if you're going to kick up that much of a fit." She lifts the gold band up in the sunlight, watches her daughter's breathing even back out. "I haven't sold it." She uses the back of her thumb nail to scratch an itch growing at the base of her neck. "But I was going to..."

"What, because according to you I've moved on? Anton's moved on, so I should too? Toss my wedding ring out and just jump into bed with Emily?"

A slow smile unfolds beautifully of the older woman's face, and she nods, "Now you're cottoning on, love - though you might want to wine and dine her before you jump into bed with her. Hmm," She smiles, gently beats her chin with the pad of a finger, looks at her daughter. "She's a gorgeous little thing though, isn't she?"

Naomi snatches up her three bags from the floor, stands up. "I'm going into work early. Fuck this."

"Sweetheart, I saw the way she looked at you the other day when we were out shopping; with more appreciation than Anton ever has. And despite her fragility..." Gina's warm brown eyes veer off to the left in thought, then squint with an impish twinkle, her lips yielding to a grin. "I don't actually think she's going to give up until she's gotten you wrapped around her little finger."

"Mum, I really don't want to argue with you this morning, but stay out of my love life, seriously. Anton took care of me when all of that shit happened."

With soft eyes, Gina's lulls her head towards her shoulder slightly. She stares at her daughter, quietly clicks her tongue. "I can appreciate that he took good care of you, love, and I know you still feel a little bit guilty about cheating on him after everything you two went through, but that's no reason to hold on-"

"You know what?" Naomi puts her bags back down, flicks some hair back off of her shoulder and folds her arms. "Maybe I still love him." Nods. "Maybe I just still love him." Shrugs a shoulder. "And why not, he gave me a wonderful daughter, took care of me when I went off the rails, and it doesn't hurt that he's one of the most beautiful men I've ever seen."

That last comment strikes something, has Gina asking all sorts in her head. Decides to voice the subject she's most concerned about. "Has anything else happened since the last time?"

"...There may've been...a little bit of flirting when I dropped Thea back up there this past week."

Gina closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger, slowly shakes her head. "Sweetheart, the man's engaged." Wearily opens her eyes and lowers her fingers away from her nose.

"I'm aware, I'm not inept. Don't talk to me like I am."

"You're playing with fire."

"He started it. I kind of just ignored him, and continued to say bye to Thea."

"The only reason I'm putting my foot down with this is because sometimes I'm not firm enough with you – could've been firmer on you when you were growing up, as it sits. You're my daughter and I love you." Gina tells it softly, "I just want to see you happy and enjoying life."

The younger Campbell grabs her head, groans as soft blonde strands spill out between her fingers. "Well stop going on about Emily all the time then. She's just turned twenty for fuck sake, and she's only just come out – not to mention my history with her mum. I'm not even about to consider jumping into that mess. I can't be bothered with any of it."

"Yet, just recently, you put her up for two nights, and suffered grief from her family just so that she wouldn't have to go it alone."

"That was completely fucking different."

"You mean you didn't have to put yourself out there, so it was safe."

Naomi scoffs, stuffs each hand into her coat pockets. "No, that's not what I meant, at all. Stop deliberately being obtuse, and making out that I have issues with putting myself out there."

Gina folds her arms, silently raises an eyebrow...

"You can swiftly stop doing that thing with your eyebrow, mother; I don't have issues with putting myself out there. Get out of here with that rubbish."

"Nobody's judging you, sweetheart, least of all me. You've been through a lot." She lets that stand in the silence between them, smiles warmth and motherly affection at her daughter. "I'm just highlighting your options. Keeping the ring kind of signifies one thing, and getting rid of it sort of signifies another. This Emily could be just what the doctor ordered. She adores you, and you," She pokes a finger, smiles somewhat knowingly. "Think she's adorable."

"Yes," Naomi puffs loose a breath, rolls her eyes, "The flowers were really nice, and yes, knowing that she finds me attractive," Rolls her eyes again and gestures at nothing in particular, "Is also nice, but I just..." Slowly shakes her head, stares off into the gaggle of sunlit dust particles floating just over the sink. "Really can't be bothered."

"Well, you're not getting this ring back. And one of these days I _am _going to sell it, and you're not even going to bat an eyelid." Gina drops the circular piece of gold back into the drawer, pushes it in but leaves it unlocked, knows she'll be free to sell it any time soon.

.

.

.

.

.

She hasn't seen or spoken to Naomi in three days...misses her. Misses seeing Naomi tie her cardigan strings around her waist whilst kicking into those fluffy lilac slippers. Misses the smell that kisses the insides of her nostrils when Naomi's around, misses...her.

She sighs, pulls the anxiety management referral off of the notice board and lays it flat on the bed. She smoothes it out, stares at it, wonders if she'll ever blossom into that social butterfly, wonders if she'll ever have a phone full of numbers that belong to people other than the members of her family...wonders how it'll change her life, if at all. Doesn't have a clue if she'll recognize the 5ft2 girl in the mirror after the course completes, because that mousy girl who's too afraid to try new hairstyles is who she is – all she's ever known of that girl in the mirror – and it's already blackened just about every aspect of her life thus far.

She eventually pushes the referral aside and takes her phone out of her dressing gown pocket, touches it's screen until she's in the create-a-new-message application.

Types out a rapid _Hello.__ It's__ Emi__ – _

Quickly rolls her chocolate eyes and deletes it.

Tries a different approach: _Hey __Naomi__ :__-)__ Haven't__ spoken __for__ a __bit,__ but __I __just__ want__ you__ to __know,__ once__ again,__ how __grateful __I __am __for__ what __you __did__ for __me_. _I __won't __ever __forget__ it._

Shakes her head, highlights all of the text, and hits the delete option.

Slowly types out: _Hey.__ Just__ thinking__ about __you._

She fiddles her bottom lip between two fingers, stares down at what she's typed out for a significant amount of time...deletes it.

_I miss you. Like, not in some stalker way. But just cuz I got a little bit used to you and Thea those two days I spent round yours. I hope I don't sound like a stalker. I'm not. I'm just not that good with words. Anyway, I can't wait to see you next. _

She blinks at it, then quietly tuts, deletes everything after the first full stop, is left with:_ I miss you.  
><em>

Tucks the majority of her rose pink bottom lip behind her two front teeth, lets her thumb float above the send option, whispers, "Come on, just send it. What's the worst that could happen? Just...do it."

She could, but then it would be a whole day spent doing tasks half-arsed, distracted and fretting over what and when Naomi would text back, if at all...

Slowly lowers her thumb so that it's hovering over the keypad at letter _x_. She quickly hits it three times, gazes long and hard at the new message.

_I miss you xxx_

Her bottom lip pops out from behind her teeth. "Yeah, right." She mutters with a tut, ends up closing the application altogether, ends up tossing the phone to the bed.

In the short number of seconds to follow, the door handle gently twists down, reveals Katie in the doorway. She stands there for a few seconds, in the landing sunlight, before arching an uncertain eyebrow. "Want to talk?"

Emily's hands are quick to gather up that referral and fold it away in her palms. She then narrows her twin the deadest eyes one can pull off without actually being dead. "What are you going to do, punch me in my face if I say no?"

"She deserved that, Em."

"What, for showing me support and generosity, whilst you and mum collectively m-made me feel like I was disgusting and d-didn't deserve to be a-fucking-live?" Something quiet but vicious blazing in her pupils, the younger twin pushes up from her bed and pushes past her big sister, heads for the bathroom, the words, "Shove whatever you've got to say up your tits, Katie," searing a trail of almost visible fire over her shoulder.

The bathroom door's slam trudges throughout the entire top floor, leaves Katie standing there blinking at it...

Jaw tight and churning, she lurches forward, hammers the side of her fist against it twice. "Bitch, I don't fucking care that you're like, this raging fanny fluffer or whatever! I'm not mum – there's how many gays in my group of friends. Fucking Danny's auntie's a lesbian; you can flick all the beans you like 'til your muff munching heart's content. But just get the fuck over yourself! And get over that bitch you're all love hearts and candy canes over!"

Sighs a sigh which easily gets through the thick door, husks, "Fuck off, Katie."

A little after that a rain-like sound starts up beyond the bathroom door, makes the eldest twin feel as though she's being ignored.

Gives the door another thump, shouts, "She fucking tried to feel mum up, Emily!"

...She lets that digest, expects the shower to silence, expects the knob to the bathroom door to twist, her distraught twin emerging with moist eyes.

Instead it's just the ongoing drone of the shower-head spitting water at the bath's floor, the quiet surrounding hum of the heating system powering up in the airing cupboard.

Katie's forehead lines, and she pummels the door again. "Bitch, did you hear what I just said?"

Emily squeezes the shower gel bottle at her palm, bubbles and slick foam accumulating with her hand's trail underneath her pale breasts and lower stomach. Her hand stops as the tips of her fingers reach her hip. "Unfortunately, it was impossible not to." She calls back, leaves it at that.

"Oh yeah; mum told me she cheated on her husband too! Another fine quality to add to the list."

Emily snaps the lid to the shower gel shut, stands there blinking into space whilst the shower-head pelts her skin with water...

* * *

><p>She drops down into the sofa, wiggles down into the new thick firm cushions whilst sitting the takeaway menu on her lap. Pushes her glasses further up her nose and runs her eyes down the different meals in print, listens to the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder ring out...<p>

"...H-Hello?"

"Hello Emily, it's Naomi..." Turns the menu over, runs her eyes down the offers, waits for that familiar husk to fill her ear again...eventually has to ask, "Hello?"

"Y-Yeah, I'm erm..." Quietly clears her throat. "Here."

"How're things on your side?"

"Erm, they're ok. Avoiding everyone apart from my dad and James. How did you get m-my erm, my number?"

Naomi reaches forward for a pen, clicks it's top and quickly circles the meal she wants, frowns when Emily's question reverberates in her conscious mind. She tosses the menu and pen to the side, takes the phone out from between her shoulder and ear, and holds it properly, her forehead still crumpled. "You erm," Rubs her nose, "Sent me a text earlier - that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"...A text?"

"Yeah." She drawls, switches the phone to her left ear in partial chuckle. "Em, if you're going to have my number, you can't send me stuff like that."

"Erm," Her throat contracts with an almost audible gulp. "...S-Stuff like what?"

"Erm..." Naomi stalls, reaching into her cardigan pocket to retrieve her blackberry device. Quickly touches its screen until the picture message is filling the display, raises her eyebrows and slowly shakes her head as she comprehends what's staring back at her for the second time today. "Were you out eating chips earlier today?"

"...I, I was out with Pandora at McDonald's after, after work. I, I didn't s-send anything, I promise."

"Well, it appears to be..." She turns the blackberry sideways and squints in the image, before returning it to vertical. "It appears to be an x-rated stick-man drawing comprised of half-eaten McDonald's fries, with the actual message being, '_Wanna __try __my __special __fish__ and __chips?_,' with all the letters of fish in capitals. '_Luv__ Emily_,' with two kisses on the end."

"Fucking Cook!" Suddenly flies from the younger girl's lips, makes Naomi jump slightly.

"Fish, chips, cook; Emily?" Blue eyes quickly glance around the living room, "Am I on some hidden camera show where I have to piece together food-related words in order to win, or something? Because if that's the case, I look like crap, and would've liked the heads up."

"N-No! Pandora's friend, James Cook, he was erm, he was with us at McDonald's, and he had my phone whilst I went to the toilet, said he needed to make a call and had n-no credit. He'd been making those stupid stick-men throughout our entire meal! Honestly, I w-wasn't talking about you. I mentioned you once to him, and, and it wasn't anything...sexual." Huffs out a groan. "Wait 'til I see that boy again!"

"Emily, breathe." Naomi chuckles softly. She lies back into the couch, smirks, "Calm down. I'm just happy there are no hidden cameras involved. I never would've forgiven you."

A brief band of silence plays out, then the girl on the other end mousily mutters, "...You can't look that bad."

"Well I have on one of those cardigans you say makes me look hundreds of years old, and my hair, well, lets just say that I plead the fifth on that one. _No _cameras, not even mobile ones – I've taped mine over. _And_," She closes her eyes to a comical squint. "I'm also considering the removal of all mirrors from the house, too."

Emily's eyelids flutter back open as she comes out of her blissful Naomi daze, quietly mumbles. "I actually...I like those cardigans on, you."

"...I erm," Naomi clears her throat, starts again. "I think I'm going to go now. I'm erm, about to order takeaway, so..."

"Fish and chips, perhaps?" The husky voice somewhat chirps.

"You're quick." The older woman responds, her cheek bunching as one corner of her mouth quirks up. She suddenly remembers yesterday's conversation with her mother, feels the quirked corner of her mouth promptly falling level with the other one as she comes to the unwanted conclusion that yes, the ruby-haired girl is adorable...

Sucks a quick but powerful lung of air past her lips, rushes out: "Emily, would you like to come out with – actually..." She lifts her hand, ruffles the thick blonde strands at the back of her head, sighs and lets her eyelids fall. "It doesn't matter. Anyway, I'll see you."

"...Erm, ok. Bye Naomi."

"Bye Emily."

* * *

><p><strong>Thoughts? And thanks for reading<strong>.


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